Inside the Blackest Heart
by Ms-Figg
Summary: Dark Snape embraces being a Death Eater despite the Order and Albus isn't who he seems to be. Snape warns a persistant Hermione off in no uncertain terms. Both end up guests of the Dark Lord. Alternative Universe, Dark Fic, OOC Albus evil, NC, S&M, MF, MM
1. Chapter 1

Inside the Blackest Heart Part 1

The dungeons were always colder than the rest of Hogwarts' vast hallways. This should have been attributed to their underground location. But many believed the temperature difference between the dungeons and the rest of the castle could be attributed to the sole occupant of those dank, dark corridors. A man who oozed coldness on even the most sweltering day. Professor Severus Snape.

To say he was a dark wizard hardly fit the bill. Dark meant there was some light. Severus Snape was completely black in his make-up. He may have served the Order in the fight against Voldemort, but being a spy was a job that had stolen the remnants of his soul. A job that had no redeeming qualities except for a distant hope that it would all be worthwhile. And hope was not in Snape's vocabulary. He had lost that when he joined the deatheaters and realized what they were. Fanatics. Murderers. Zealots, serving an insane Lord. Then when he tried to break away, Albus Dumbledore talked him into remaining, thus killing his final hope that through execution by the Aurors he would at last be free of evil. Instead, he was immersed in it, and like any thing that is marinated, that evil soaked into his being. He dripped it.

Although Snape was deemed a soldier of the Light, his very appearance shunned the light. He was tall and lean, with pale skin that ordinary sunlight would blister as if he were one of the undead. His long black hair hung lank around his shoulders. He possessed black, cold eyes that seemed as if they could see through stone, a hawkish nose that could sniff out a rule -breaking student at fifty paces and a sensuous cruel mouth not made for even the most rudimentary pleasantry. His voice was soft, seductive and hypnotic, and as capable of cutting through an unsuspecting person as viciously as the sharpest blade.

Snape was a professor at Hogwarts, the most hated one of all. His hatred of his life had transmuted to a cruel hatred of all happiness and joy, something that his students evidenced every day of their lives. He extinguished that youthful exuberance whenever he could, with cruel, biting remarks, detentions and unmitigated point taking. He never gave praise. Learning was an end in itself, and as far as he was concerned, the students were supposed to absorb his teachings. They were only doing what they were supposed to do. For the most part, he found them stupid and thick. There was only one student who he could see that had half a brain, the irritating Hermione Granger. She was in her seventh year now, and ready to leave Hogwarts. He would be glad to see her gone.

She was one of the few students who knew he was a spy for the Order, and for some reason was driven to try and get close to him. Obviously, the young woman thought he needed someone with which to commiserate. But he didn't. He was perfectly content to bear his burden alone. He remembered her sitting in the infirmary when he was still broken by the effects of the Cruciatus curse cast on him by Voldemort and unable to protest. She had grasped his hand and cried over him. The silly chit. As if her tears could make any difference. Then he had overheard her defending him against her idiot friends. He didn't need or want defending. He was a murderer, a rapist and a criminal as much as any other deatheater…even if he did serve the side of good. He had a license to be a monster, and he used that license to be just that. He had participated in the murders of innocents. He had tortured and raped countless men and women alike, brutally riding and climaxing in their shuddering, broken bodies during the Dark Revels. He had brewed potions to strengthen and give greater power to the Dark Lord. If he were sorry for anything, it was that he had ever been born.

But Miss Granger couldn't see that he was unredeemable. She thought he must be noble to do what he did. No, he only had to be cold, empty, and devoid of conscience. He wasn't driven by any ideal of saving the wizarding world, it was only his hatred of his Master that made him continue. He wanted to see him dead. The beatings, the whippings and the constant applications of the Cruciatus curse he went through, were simply the normal trimmings of the banquet of evil he feasted on daily. The dribbles of information he fed the Order were of little worth in Snape's estimation. He could never give them enough so he wouldn't have to return to the Dark Lord's presence. Oh, the information saved some lives, but he still took lives…so he gained nothing from his perceived acts of goodness. He still served Voldemort as if the Order didn't exist.

Tonight, as every night, he sat in his office grading papers with a red quill, cursing the stupidity of his students with every stroke. He was forced to deal with first and second year dunderheads as a matter of course, but after that he didn't understand why the students didn't bail, since his course became elective for those who didn't receive high enough marks to proceed to Advanced Potions. They returned again and again to try to pass, when they had neither the brains nor the aptitude for Potions making. And he had to keep teaching them just the same. Even in teaching, he could find no satisfaction. Only Miss Granger had managed to get almost perfect marks, despite his attempts at sabotage. He disliked the muggle-born witch. She was too much like unwelcome sunshine that met his eyes when he came up out of a dark place. She was also pushy and didn't understand what it meant when he told her stay away. She took it as a cry for help. Her mind couldn't wrap around the fact that there were people in this world who coveted their misery. People like him.

Snape viciously slashed a red mark through a thoroughly asinine statement concerning boomslang skin, when there was a knock on the door. He scowled at it. It was after nine. Who in their right mind would disturb him…other than Albus Dumbledore, who took advantage of his Headmaster status to constantly intrude on Snape's solitude. He put the quill down and pinched his nose in exasperation.

"Come in, if you absolutely must," he called. The door opened slowly. Gods, no. Not again.

"Good evening, Professor," said Hermione Granger, walking into the room.

She had taken to stopping by his office after curfew for no good reason, taking advantage of her position as Head Girl. He had requested that she desist, but the Gryffindor witch would not listen. She would find the most idiotic reasons to bother him. All the while he knew she was trying to get him to let her in, to be his 'friend'. What a joke. Women weren't friends. They were vessels. Toys. Their only value was what lay between their thighs, and even that value was reduced once those thighs were breeched.

The Professor's black eyes swept over the robed witch looking at him with wide, amber eyes, her long chestnut hair curling softly around her face. He imagined Miss Granger had not yet been breeched.

"What is it this time, Miss Granger?" Snape said irritatedly, feeling like hexing the witch. Maybe then she'd understand that neither she nor her good intentions were wanted here.

"I was patrolling the corridors and thought I'd stop by to see if everything were all right here," she said. Snape rolled his eyes. What could the chit possibly do if things were not all right?

Miss Granger, if there were a problem here, there would be nothing you could do to rectify it. You are a student. Don't let your title go to your head. If there were danger here, you'd run squealing for your Head of House's aid," he sneered at her.

Hermione swelled indignantly.

"That's not so, Professor. I have never run from anything in my life," she shot back.

The dark wizard looked at her consideringly.

"Maybe you haven't been sufficiently frightened, Miss Granger," he said slowly. "How old are you now?"

"Eighteen," she replied. "Last month was my birthday."

The Professor sat back in his chair and looked at her with his cold, black eyes, his thumb and forefinger stroking his chin. Eighteen. A very curious age. Old enough to take a Wizard's Oath as well.

"Miss Granger, why do you come by my office night after night after I've expressly told you not to?" he asked her directly.

Hermione reddened.

"Well, to check up on you, actually. To make sure you're all right…" she faded away at the look on his face.

"To make sure the big, bad Dark Lord hasn't gotten me?" he said, chuckling nastily.

"What could you do if I wasn't all right, Miss Granger?" he asked her, "What could you do to possibly ease my pain? Cry over me? That's no help. Your tears are meaningless. Your concern is meaningless. You could only serve one purpose for me, ever. And in the end, even that would be meaningless."

"What?" Hermione asked, angered that he dismissed her ability to possibly help him so easily

He looked at her, his eyes darkening.

"That answer, Miss Granger, would be the one to make you take off running," he replied.

Hermione gave him a mutinous look.

The Professor scowled at her and said, "Miss Granger, you have erroneously judged me. You come here like I'm some kind of unsung hero, thinking I serve the Order out of some sense of nobility. I impart information to the Order, but they have left me a deatheater, Miss Granger. I have no qualms about what I do, or whom I do it to. I indulge in the same twisted appetites as they do. You see the tortured hero returning to his lair, but you do not see the animal ripping apart innocents and deriving pleasure from it. I am no hero, Miss Granger. I have evil in my heart. I would do evil to you too. Ruin your innocence simply because your pain would give me pleasure. You need to realize that and run back into the light."

Snape leaned forward in his chair, his black eyes glittering at the young witch.

"Every time you enter my domicile, you get a little bit closer to my darkness. I am of such value to the Order, even harming you would not result in my punishment. You are a lucky young woman in that I do not ruin you now. I do not give warnings often Miss Granger. This is the last time I will tell you to leave me alone, stay out of the dungeons after curfew. I am not redeemable. I am not the least bit noble. If you return to me again, it will mean only one thing to me, and that is you want to see the deatheater side of me. And I will show it to you, Miss Granger. For the last time, leave me alone. I do not need your pity or sympathy. If you return to these dungeons alone, you will be the one in need of pity and sympathy. You have been warned. Fifty points from Gryffindor. Now go!"

"I want to know the purpose I could serve," Hermione said stubbornly.

The Potions Master considered her.

"I will not say it in the open air. Come here if you would know, but remember, it was you who wanted to know," he said.

Hermione hesitated as the Potions Master sat in his chair, challenge in his black eyes. Taking a deep breath, she walked around his desk and faced him. His black eyes flicked over her, coming to rest on her face.

"You are brave, I give you that," he said. Then he stood, towering over her. She hadn't realized how much taller he was than her. He placed two fingers on his temple, and two on hers, then muttered an incantation.

Suddenly Hermione saw an image of the Professor bending her over a desk and twisting her arm behind her back painfully. He lifted her robes and her skirt, and pulled down her knickers. With one hand he opened his robe, unfastened his pants, took out his tool and entered her, thrusting into her brutally.

Hermione pulled back from him, the image disappearing when his fingers left her temple. She stared up at him, her eyes wide. His cold expression didn't change as he looked down at her.

"Now you know what to expect if you return here after curfew alone," he said, sitting back down in his chair and pulling his papers back toward him, picking up the red quill as if nothing had transpired. As if he hadn't shown her an image of him raping her.

Hermione backed away from his desk, her eyes still wide with horror. Snape looked up at her calmly. He liked the horrified look in her eyes. Now she had some idea of who he really was and would keep a respectful distance or face the consequences.

"Why are you still here, Miss Granger?" he said, "Want to lose more points? Or something other than points?"

Hermione reddened, and hurriedly left the room.

"Stupid chit," Snape muttered to himself, starting back on his papers.

* * *

Hermione hurried through the dungeon corridors, anxious for the light and safety of the Main Hall. Professor Snape had just threatened to rape her if she returned to his Potions room alone again after curfew. How could he do that? He was a Hogwarts teacher, and an Order of the Phoenix member! 

_"And a deatheater,"_a small voice in her head said.

Hermione had always believed that the Professor merely acted like a deatheater to keep his cover, not that he embraced being one, or took pleasure in it. She had believed that he did what he did in order to save the wizarding world from Voldemort, exposing his secrets and weakness so they could be used against the insane Dark Lord. But from what he told her tonight, that wasn't so. He was a truly evil wizard and one that would gladly hurt her for his own pleasure. So why did she feel all achy inside?

Hermione hurried up the moving stairwells as quickly as she could, anxious to return to Gryffindor tower and the privacy of her room, so she could think about what happened tonight at length, and decide whether or not she should tell anyone of the Professor's threat. Though he did not actually threaten her, he showed her, which was much worse actually.

She arrived at the fat lady's portrait, which was dozing.

"Fizzy Whizzbangs," she said to the sleeping picture. The fat lady let out a raucous snore and continued sawing wood. Hermione frowned and knocked on the frame loudly.

The fat lady snorted and woke up suddenly.

"Well, what is it?" she asked snappishly.

"I want to get in," Hermione said to her, frowning.

"Well, give me the password you silly girl," the portrait said irritably.

Hermione huffed and considered throwing a turpentine spell on the picture, but got control of herself and repeated the password.

Scowling, the portrait swung in, giving Hermione access to the common room entrance. She sped through it, and the empty common room, shot up the stairs and entered the Head Girl's room. She fell on the bed.

Hermione was a brilliant witch. She had gone through Hogwarts with top marks in most of her classes, Potions being the exception. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't get perfect marks. She suspected the Potions Master of purposely sabotaging her grades and had quite a few detentions under her belt for calling him on it year after year. She had always thought him a bastard, but when she found out in her fourth year that he was actually a spy, and suffered great punishments to provide information to the Order, she began to form an image of him in her mind as a tragic hero. A lonely one, in need of someone to care for him.

And that's how this infatuation began. Then she had witnessed something no one else knew about. She had been out on the Hogwarts grounds earlier in the year, at night, under Harry's invisibility cloak, on her way to collect an herb for a potion she was illegally brewing. The herb grew on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, and could only be harvested at night. She was drawing near the forest, when she heard the sounds of a scuffle. She ran toward the noise, which was coming from within the Forbidden Forest. She ran through the trees, still under the cloak, and saw in a clearing, three men fighting with short blades. All three were deatheaters.

It was two against one. But the one deatheater was very skilled and deadly. He was winning. He sliced one deatheater straight up the middle, spilling his insides on the ground. The other deatheater turned to run, and he flung the short sword at him, striking him in the back, taking him down. He walked over to the fallen deatheater, put his foot on him and pulled out the blade. He lowered his hood and pulled off his mask. It was Professor Snape. He took out his wand and transformed both of the bodies into stones, which he then picked up and threw deep into the forest. Hermione sat pressed against the tree as he walked past, heading for the castle. He had just walked past her when he stopped and looked around suspiciously, sniffing. She held her breath, hoping he didn't smell her jasmine-scented shampoo. He shook his head, and kept going, returning to the castle. Watching him kill two men so easily and without remorse, did something to Hermione's insides. He was deadly and dangerous. A hero, and brilliant. A wizard with a secret identity, living on the edge of death at every moment. Thinking of the Professor this way made her feel hot all over. And that's how she had stayed.

Hermione was still a virgin. There had been some hot and heavy petting with Victor when she went to visit him one summer, but she ended up denying him. He was exotic and sexy but she wasn't ready. He pressured her too hard, and she balked, breaking up with him. Yet, he had awakened urges in her that never left, urges that somehow had transferred to the person of Professor Severus Snape. Yes, he was much older than she was, but her father was much older than her mother, and they got on fine. Age wasn't an issue, now. She was the age of consent.

Hermione was brilliant in the ways of books, logic and so forth. But in the ways of men and women, she lacked any working knowledge. If she had any, she would have realized by observation that the Professor was not the kind of man to want for a lover. He was dark, mysterious, dangerous, with a voice like silk and a command that held other in thrall, but he was cold and cruel as well. And this was no act. He had no capacity to love a woman, and if he took Hermione, it would mean little to him other than a momentary animalistic pleasure. Hermione was of the mind that if she gave the dark wizard her most precious gift, it would transform him into the perfect love of her life. She was so naive.

The young witch had no idea how to reach the Professor. He was so cold and unapproachable as far as telling him she was attracted to him. He would probably laugh at her, then insult her horribly. She thought about sending him love notes, but thought that would be too childish. She decided to try to get to know him better, try to be a friend first, and then maybe he would see her as a young woman who could be something more. That's what she had been working on these past couple of months, hoping for some kind of breakthrough before graduation. Showing up at his office every night, trying to make small talk. But he was always mean, always dismissive. But she was so stuck on her romanticized version of the "unsung hero who needed to be loved," she ignored his snarkiness, and continued to visit him. Tonight, he had shown her his true self, and what he was capable of.

The logical part of Hermione told her that the Professor was bad news, and to heed his warning, stay away from the man, get him out of her mind. He would hurt her both physically and emotionally. But there was that part of Hermione that brought the dark wizard to her in dreams, and he was just as cold in her dreams, but he was passionate with her, and met a dark need she had to be dominated. For now, the logical part was winning out. But how long would that last?

Potions was her favorite class, despite her grades. She enjoyed brewing, measuring and chopping. Most of all she enjoyed watching the Professor dominate the classroom, lecturing in his smooth voice, sweeping through the class with a billow of robes, creating elixirs with precision, his long fingered hands gentle and precise when handling the tools of his trade. She especially loved his invasion of her personal space. The Professor knew how to intimidate students, but in the case of an infatuated student, intimidation became titillation. When he would swoop behind her, standing mere inches from her body, looking over her shoulder so closely she could feel his heat, she got an intense feeling between her legs that was absolutely delicious. She could almost groan when he moved on to the next student. There were times she wanted to back up into him, and rub herself against him like a cat. She could only imagine his reaction to that. By the time she had served her ninety-nine years worth of detentions he would be long gone.

She also liked when he got snarky with her, yelled at her and ordered her to do things. There was a time she hated that, but after seeing him in the Forbidden Forest, that changed quickly. The sharp note of expectant compliance in his voice made her legs turned to rubber. The cruelty of his comments now made her wet. Hermione knew there was something very wrong with this and looked it up, finding that she was showing signs of being a masochist. She rationalized this, of course, deciding that she was like this because she dominated all of her classes, every argument, bossed Harry, Ron and other housemates around constantly, and always found herself in charge of things, which was very draining, and she sometimes wished it wasn't that way. She sometimes wished someone else had control. Professor Snape was in actuality, the only one who pushed her around at Hogwarts. Sometimes she pushed back, and it resulted in even more dominance on his part, with him taking house points and assigning her detentions, forcing her to concede in the end.

Hermione decided that she wouldn't tell anyone about what happened between her and the Professor tonight, and to stay away from his office after curfew, though she still had to do her rounds. She wasn't sure if he had shown her that image to frighten her, or because he actually meant it, but felt the wisest course of action would be to treat it as a serious threat. She would just have to get over him. Her lusting after him was ridiculous anyway.

That decided, the young witch undressed for bed, burying herself deep under the covers, and wiping all thoughts of the Potions Master from her conscious mind, occupying it instead with thoughts of Arithmancy problems. She drifted off to sleep.

The conscious mind can be controlled, but there was little one could do with the subconscious. While Hermione slept, the image of the Professor bending her over the desk and riding her brutally came back to her, but in this dream version, she was willing and loving what he was doing to her. She writhed and gasped in her sleep, never waking, even when she climaxed.

* * *

Finished marking his students' usual disappointing parchments, Snape retired to his bedroom. He divestoed his clothing and dropped into his bed, lying on top of the sheets naked. His mind idly turned to Hermione and the image he had sent her. He had to admit it had been highly arousing and he wondered if she would dare return after seeing the image of him shagging her. Since she knew what he intended to do to her if she did return, then it would no longer be rape as far as he was concerned. He swelled. 

Hmm. Shagging Hermione Granger. The school darling. The Princess of Gryffindor. Yes, he could definitely do that. He'd wrap his fists in her hair and ride her like a hippogriff until her orifice was so worked over it would swell shut. She didn't know who she was dealing with, stupid girl. He stroked himself as he thought about it. But he'd only do it if she came back. He didn't think she would. She had looked scared, and he had meant to scare her. She was irritating. She didn't listen. For someone so brilliant, she was thick as lead.

He could imagine what Dumbledore would say to him if he did shag the Gryffindor witch.

"Severus, you must control yourself. What you've done to Miss Granger is atrocious. She is a student, even if she is of the age of consent, and you brutalized her. Still, _you are too valuable to the Order for this to get out._"

Then the old dodger would cover it up. He'd covered up other things. Severus snorted. People thought of Albus Dumbledore as a kindly old Headmaster, but the white-haired old coot could be just as vicious and manipulative as Voldemort when he wanted something done. No one had ever seen Albus' methods of interrogation except him. Usually what was left of the interrogated could be put in a matchbox with room left over. It was all bullshit. In all actuality Snape was caught between two Dark Lords. One was just better at hiding it. Dumbledore wouldn't take the seat of the Minister of Magic, because he could wield his power any way he wanted if he remained as he was. And he didn't hesitate to use his power to destroy his enemies. Albus Dumbledore was a dangerous wizard.

Severus scowled. The Headmaster used him without conscience, ordering him to give Voldemort false information that didn't pan out, which resulted in terrible punishments for the Potions Master. Then Pomfrey would bind him back together for the next round of torture. You would think the Headmaster would make some effort to at least make the information appear true, but no, he left the Potions Master high and dry every time…promising to do more next time, and never did. At least Voldemort came through on his promises some of the time. Snape suspected Dumbledore did it on purpose to punish him while he served the Order, some twisted sense of justice, payment for the crimes he committed while being undercover. Basically, it was the old man appeasing his own conscience concerning sending Snape out to murder, mutilate and rape in the name of the Order. The bastard.

Severus had deflated when his thoughts turned to Dumbledore. So he turned his thoughts to the last Dark Revel he attended, when a selection of muggle women had been presented for their use. He and Lucius had shared one of the women, a buxom young redhead with beautiful green eyes. He hardened again as he thought about it. She had been a real screamer. Lucius had taken her mouth while he buggered her. Lucius came first, and when he withdrew, the woman brokenly pleaded with Snape between her screams of pain, to kill her rather than hand her over to the long line of deatheaters waiting their turn. He promised he would if she would just stop talking to him, but he didn't. Her wide green eyes followed him when he came, slid out of her and backed away, to be replaced by another two deatheaters. He watched them rape her for a while, his eyes cold, his spirit unmoved. He was numb to it. He felt nothing when he later saw her battered, bloody and come-stained body left abandoned on the mattress staring lifelessly at something beyond this world while deatheaters walked around her like she was a discarded piece of trash. This was the hero's life Dumbledore arranged for him and he immersed himself in it totally. The muggle was just another casualty of the struggle between light and dark.

His thoughts turned back to Hermione. He was becoming more and more interested in doing her. Not just because all of Hogwarts would be in an uproar if it got out, but she was such a naïve little chit, probably full of romantic ideas that he could brutally crush right out of her. She lived the kind of charmed life he hated, a young witch adored by almost everyone and everyone constantly piling the compliments on, how bright Miss Granger was, how accomplished Miss Granger was, how focused and studious Miss Granger was. How very chaste she was. What a bright future was in front of her after graduation. He'd like to be the one to break her chastity, actually break her before she set out in the world, show her the truth, show her there is no such thing as a charmed life, that there was always something ugly swimming just beneath the surface. For her, he could be that hidden ugliness. Plus, brutalizing Hermione would be a good, hard shot at Dumbledore. He had plans for the witch in the Order. He could get some revenge on the old man, taking his prized student and stealing away all her innocence, hardening her before Albus could begin to mold her into the obedient creature he wanted. Yes, he liked that notion…he liked it very much.

For a moment he idly thought he might abduct Hermione and take her to a Dark Revel, but they would kill her for certain. Watching Miss Granger get raped to death by forty or more deatheaters might be interesting, but he'd probably have to kill Harry Potter when the boy found out what he'd done. And Potter was at the center of this whole mess, so he was an untouchable too. Albus would never stand for it, and would definitely try to kill him if he harmed a single hair on the boy's head.

But Hermione at a Dark Revel? A muggle-born witch that bested all their pureblood children in their studies? The deatheaters would line up for her for sure. She'd have dick busting out of her head, they'd ride her so hard for her audacity. Snape stroked his hard organ again at the image of Hermione being gang-raped, every orifice filled with meat, her hands stroking the tools of those waiting their turn to get at her, as other deatheaters took turns ejaculating on her. Shit, that was pretty hot. He fisted his organ and worked it furiously, Hermione's defilement his focus, and in a short while he groaned and spurted strongly, his release flying everywhere. He lay there for a while, letting himself calm down. That had been good. He scourgified himself.

Yes. He'd do her for the hell of it. He just had to find a way to get her back in his office after curfew. And he'd make sure Albus knew he'd done her. Maybe give him a pensieve of it. Now there was an idea. Send the old codger an anonymous pensieve with his ideal Gryffindor Princess getting thoroughly reamed by the Potions Master in every orifice. Why not? Maybe the old fuck would have a heart attack. Would serve the Headmaster right for all the shit he put him through.

Severus smiled at this pleasant thought, and it was with this thought dancing through his mind, he fell asleep.

* * *

Hermione had patrolled all the upper floors. It was time for her to check the dungeons. Although she had no intention on stopping at Professor Snape's office, she was experiencing a bit of anxiety at entering the dark halls. She walked down the stairs that led to the Main Hall and walked across it to the corridor that led down to the dungeon area. She took a deep breath. All she had to do was check the niches and hidden rooms all the way down to the Slytherin common room entrance, then come back and recheck them on her way out. There shouldn't be a problem. 

Hermione descended the stairs and walked swiftly through the dungeon corridors, stopping and shining her wand into the recesses and niches. She felt the amount of them had doubled. She pressed the pattern to open a hidden room, and shined the light. Two sets of shocked eyes met hers.

"All right, get dressed and get out here," she said to the couple, who had been in the process of disrobing for a quick hot shag. She recognized the young man, a Slytherin. She wasn't familiar with the girl. She waited outside the room, tapping her foot impatiently, her arms crossed. She had hoped she wouldn't catch anyone down here. Finally the couple came out.

The young woman's wide blue eyes met Hermione's.

"We…we didn't do anything you know," she said to the Head Girl.

"I know," Hermione responded, snorting a bit, "Coitus Interruptus."

The girl blushed.

The young man looked at Hermione with a bit of a sneer.

"Philip Urnston, right?" Hermione said.

"Yes," he hissed at her.

"Twenty-five points from Slytherin and a detention with Filch to be served Wednesday," Hermione said.

"Twenty-five points! You're just doing that because you're a Gryffindor!" the young man accused.

"Would you like to try for fifty?" Hermione said sweetly.

The young man's handsome face went red with rage.

"No," he said sullenly.

"Good, now go back to your house," Hermione directed. Philip turned and stalked away. Hermione turned to the young woman.

"Your name and house?"

"Helga Bedwin, Hufflepuff House," she said in a small voice.

"All right. Fifteen points from Hufflepuff and two nights detention with Filch on Thursday and Friday," Hermione said.

"But I'm supposed to go to Hogsmeade Friday night," the young woman complained.

"That's not my problem," Hermione replied.

The girl frowned at her.

"Maybe if you had a boyfriend of your own to cuddle up to instead of books, you'd be more understanding," Helga spat at her.

"Twenty points from Hufflepuff," Hermione said smugly, "now go back to your house."

Thoroughly pissed at the additional point loss, the young woman walked away.

Hermione sighed and continued her patrol. What the Hufflepuff said bothered her a little. That's how everyone seemed to perceive her…as a cold bookworm who was jealous of other students' relationships. She was just doing her job.

She checked the rest of the rooms and niches. Thankfully there were no more errant students. She walked down to the Slytherin House entrance and her eyes swept the area. No one was there. She turned to head back and suddenly Professor Snape appeared in front of her, his black eyes glittering.

Hermione made to walk around him. He stepped in front of her, blocking her way. She walked to the other side. Again the Potions Master blocked her way. She looked up at him, a coldness growing in her belly. She gripped her wand tighter. She would hex him if she had to.

The Potions Master just looked at her.

"Accio wand!" he said suddenly. Hermione's wand flew out of her hand and neatly into his.

"Miss Granger. In the dungeon area," he purred at her.

"I have every right to be here. I am on patrol and this was my last area to check," she said, sounding braver than she really was, "now please return my wand so I can go."

The Potions Master smirked at her.

"You didn't stop by to see me tonight," he said silkily.

Hermione looked at him as if he were stark, raving nutters.

"After what you showed me yesterday, did you really think I would, Professor?" she replied, amazed he would even suggest she'd come to his office when he clearly showed her what he would do to her.

"Possibly," he said, his dark eyes meeting hers suggestively.

"I have no desire to be raped by you, Professor," Hermione said, still trying to slip by him only to be blocked by his body.

"If you came willingly, Miss Granger, it wouldn't be rape," he said, his voice low now.

Hermione felt a twinge of desire in her belly despite herself. Snape's eyes flickered a bit. His suspicion had been right. He had thought it over and wondered if Hermione stopping by so often might mean something else. By that little flash of desire in her eyes, he was sure it meant something else. Someone had a crush on the resident deatheater.

"You want me to shag you," he said, moving closer to her.

"What?" Hermione gasped, stepping back from the Potions Master, shocked at what he said, "I don't know what Potions you've been drinking but…"

"Don't try to lie to me, Miss Granger. Remember, I am a Legilimens. Do you want me to go inside your mind and see what you've been dreaming about lately?" he hissed at her.

"You have no right to do that. Now, you give me my wand and let me pass or I will report you to the Headmaster for sexual harassment," she said bravely.

"Do you really think he'll do anything to me, Miss Granger? I am his only link to Voldemort. He can't dismiss me," he said, moving toward her again, forcing her to back up until her back hit the wall. She was breathing hard now as he stood mere inches from her. She could feel his heat, and was mortified to find she was getting excited.

"Come to my office, Miss Granger," the Potions Master whispered.

"No," she whispered back, her voice seeming to fade out on her.

"You want to," he whispered hypnotically, his silky voice slipping over the words persuasively.

"No I don't. You want me to so you can do to me what you did in that image," she snapped at him, her voice returning.

"Yes I do," he said, "but I won't twist your arm. I don't think I'll have to."

Hermione's belly flipped completely over.

The Potions Master suddenly stepped forward, pressing his body against her. His entire body was so hard, including the bulge that pressed against her belly.

"Get off me," Hermione said weakly, blood pounding in her head. She felt herself getting wet and was horrified. This couldn't be happening.

"I could take you by force. I wouldn't be punished for it," Snape said, pressing against her harder. "You'd like it just the same once I got started."

Let me go, Professor," Hermione said again, feeling a throbbing ache growing between her legs.

Suddenly the Potions Master slammed his palms to the wall violently on either side of her.

"I don't think I will, Miss Granger," he said, snarling slightly, his black eyes starting to grow hard. "I think I'm going to do you right here."

Hermione was in trouble.

"Ah, there you are Severus!" A bright voice called out. The Potions Master stepped away from Hermione quickly.

Albus Dumbledore stood in the corridor, his blue eyes twinkling from behind his half-moon glasses.

"And Miss Granger!" he said, sounding pleased, "sharing patrols tonight?"

"Actually," Hermione said, snatching her wand out of the Potion Master's hand, who glowered at her darkly, "I was just about to return to my house, Headmaster. I am finished with my rounds tonight. I was just telling the Professor about the twenty-five points I took from Slytherin House."

"I see," said the Headmaster nodding. "Well, don't let me stop you, Miss Granger."

Hermione sidled past the Potions Master, whose eyes glittered after her.

"Good night, sir," she said to the Headmaster, noticeably ignoring Snape. She walked up the hall swiftly and soon disappeared from sight.

Dumbledore looked at Snape. The twinkle died in his eyes immediately, and he frowned the dark wizard.

"What do you think you were doing, Severus?" the Headmaster hissed at him, his eyes dangerous.

"Speaking to Miss Granger on a personal matter, sir," Snape replied, walking toward his office, passing the Headmaster. Albus reached out and grasped the Potions Master's arm with surprising strength, stopping him cold.

"You leave that child alone. She doesn't know anything about what you are capable of," the Headmaster said darkly.

"That 'child' is eighteen years old, and fair game," Snape replied, wrenching his arm free of Dumbledore's grip. "Besides, she wants me. I'm not about to turn down fresh trim, Albus. Not even for you."

The Headmaster scowled at him.

"She didn't seem willing, Severus. Not from where I was standing," Albus said.

"You couldn't smell her," Snape responded, "I could. I have the nose for it."

"I'm warning you, Severus," the Headmaster said. The look in his eyes was hard and cold.

"Warning me what? You're going to dismiss me for shagging a woman who wants it? I don't think so, Headmaster. You know you need me. She might be your "Princess' but I guarantee she's going to be my slut before graduation," Snape growled, his own black eyes hard now.

The two wizards faced off, staring at each other. Finally Albus sighed. He knew he couldn't stop the Potions Master if Hermione was what he wanted. He couldn't punish him either. He was the only solid link to Voldemort. The Headmaster's eyes turned a bit pleading.

"Just don't hurt her, Severus. She's young, inexperienced," Albus said softly.

The Potions Master walked to his office door and stopped. He looked back at the Headmaster.

"Albus, you know pain is my middle name," he said silkily, "but she'll survive me, I think."

The Potions Master walked into his office and closed the door.

Albus stood there a minute and shook his head.

"What a monster I've created," he said sadly, walking back toward the Main Hall.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading. 


	2. Chapter 2

Inside the Blackest Heart Part 2

As soon as Hermione was sure she was out of sight of both the Professor and Dumbledore, she stopped and leaned against the wall, shuddering, trying to calm her pounding heart. She inhaled deeply, counting to four before exhaling. This she did several times until she felt she could breathe normally again. Then she headed for Gryffindor Tower, feeling weak and disoriented by the Potion Master's assault.

Hermione's whole body tingled from her contact with the Professor's long, lean frame, not to mention his erection pressing through his robes. During his brief contact, she could actually feel his member pulsing and throbbing between them, hard but supple, moving against her like a separate entity where his body met hers. She still felt the dull ache of response between her thighs, and was ashamed of it. What she was feeling in the situation wasn't right. It couldn't be healthy. She was running from him like she should be outwardly, but there was a tug inside, a dark, unthinking compulsion to relinquish control. An urge to just go to him and serve the one purpose he said she could. She shuddered again at the wrongness of the illicit impulse and tried to wipe it from her mind.

Hermione realized guiltily as she walked through the castle, that as much as she vocally protested him pressing against her body, not once did she try to physically push him away. If Dumbledore hadn't arrived when he did, she was certain she would no longer be a virgin.

She walked up the shifting staircases, wondering why she didn't tell Dumbledore the truth about what he walked in on? Why didn't she say that the Potions Master had been about to forcibly take away her virtue? Possibly because she had responded to the death eater's advances. Even as she consciously denied him, her hungry body betrayed her. And that is what the dark wizard had been reacting to, her body's responses. He knew. He had seen through her. He had called her on her secret shame. Her attraction to him was her shame now, instead of her secret, because he had revealed who and what he was, and it seemed to make no difference to her body. She was still attracted to him, maybe even more so when she saw for herself what he was capable of doing to her, and how he would do it to her. She felt hot all over when she thought about him on her, in complete control.

Again Hermione shuddered, hurrying to the tower, trying to straighten out the twisted thoughts and feelings barreling through her. Trying to shake off the heat in her body. The crazy feelings coursing through her. She should be livid, she should want to punish him, make him pay for taking liberties with her, for attempting to pull her into his darkness willingly or by force. What was wrong with her? This was not the logical, safe path of thinking that she normally took when faced with conflict.

Hermione had gravitated to the good for so long. She was a good student, a good person, a good Head Girl, a good daughter, and a good friend. She broke rules but only for good reasons. Everyone said she had a good future ahead of her. Everyone expected nothing but good out of her. Hermione Granger could always be counted on to make good decisions. She was held up as the example everyone should aspire to, and considered the consummate goody-two shoes by all who knew her. If she had thought about this general perception others had of who she was, it probably would have sickened her. As it was, everyone around her was safe, comfortable, and properly Hermione-oriented.

Voldemort was always a specter of danger hanging over her life and the lives of all she knew, but there had been nothing tangibly dark, illicit and dangerous in her life, until the Potions Master showed his true colors last night. True she had lusted after her romantic image of him, the noble unappreciated hero, but there was no true interaction between them. Now, he was soul-shakingly real and frighteningly accessible, dark, cruel and lustful. A wizard who was an admitted death eater, guilty of some of the most heinous acts ever committed in the wizarding world, who served the side of Good. And he wanted her. Not for any good reason, she was sure, but reason didn't play into this at all.

Professor Snape had shown her in one night he was a man who had no redeeming qualities and reveled in his lack of them. He was someone who did not meet with anyone's approval, and didn't care. Hermione had always needed approval. Someone to say she was all right, and acceptable. What freedom the Potions Master must have, not to require the permission of others to make it through each day.

She always wondered what the lure of darkness was? Why people chose evil over good? Was it that sense of freedom from convention? From principles? From standards? She didn't know, but she was feeling the pull of the Professor, evil as he was, and a powerful urge to descend into his darkness if only one time to see what it was like to give in to her baser nature, if she had one. She knew she did have a desire to know what it would be like to not be the consummate Gryffindor, the princess apparent mounted on the pedestal. She'd like to feel what it was like to jump off it, roll in the mud and get herself dirty. To not be handled like a precious gem or a delicate flower by everyone around her, waiting like vultures for her brilliance and intelligence to be put to the service of others. For once she would like to break out of the glass house of perfection everyone had built around her. Maybe the Professor could be the one to cast that first liberating stone.

Hermione had a dark side, but being young, sheltered and manipulated by others as she was, she never recognized it. All her young life she had been groomed to be used by others. Her ego stroked, her intelligence nurtured, her accomplishments praised, more and more responsibilities placed on her small shoulders, all so she could play a part in someone else's larger plans when she came of age. Harry had used her. Ron had used her. If she hadn't been so smart, the threesome would have been a twosome. Even Dumbledore had used her. Everyone wanted to utilize her mind. Well, almost everyone. Snape wanted to utilize her body.

The Professor held no such glorified image of Hermione in his mind. He never had. To him, she was never the golden girl the rest of Hogwarts made her out to be. He saw what they were turning her into, what she was letting them turn her into, and it made him sick she fell for all the bullshit. She was bright, but in his estimation, hardly intelligent in the areas that mattered, or she would have seen through all the manipulations. Well Snape wouldn't play into it, and made her feel as unsure and inadequate as he could. It didn't matter though. Albus Dumbledore would put her to work just as surely as he did him and she would roll over, play dead and use her brilliant mind to further the old bastard's aims, just like he did. And when Snape recognized that he could put her to use too, he went for it. Why not? Everyone else was getting a piece of her. Why not him? The hell with the brilliant mind. He'd go for something more tangible and make just as big as an impression on her without the subtleties. At least she knew what he wanted, and now he knew what she wanted too. He'd give it to her.

He had been right about her dreams. After Hermione left the dungeons, she had dreamed about the Professor having sex with her last night, and he wasn't gentle, or kind or loving. He was brutal and insatiable, doing things to her that she had never imagined people did, and saying things to her decent people just didn't say. She woke in a huge wet spot in the morning, proof that the dream caused a very real reaction in her body. She also had a persistent yearning ache in the middle of her lower belly that lasted most of the day that would flare any time she thought about the dream. It had reawakened when the Professor appeared in the dungeons, even before he had backed her against the wall.

After her dreams, Hermione had been glad she didn't have a Potions class today. She didn't know how she would react to the Professor after a night of dreaming of him shagging her. But she would have one tomorrow, right after breakfast. Despite her situation with the Potions Master, she couldn't miss it if she wanted to keep her marks up. She had no idea how the Potions Master would treat her in front of the class. Hopefully no different. Maybe the close call with Dumbledore had cooled his ardor a bit.

Hermione arrived at the common room entrance and gave the password to the fat lady, who swung in without comment this time. She entered that passageway, heading for her room and one very sleepless night.

* * *

Breakfast in the Great Hall was not easy for Hermione. Professor Snape was there. He wasn't doing anything particularly awful, only eating his breakfast of ham and eggs, and looking at her from time to time with his usual scowl. But the problem was, to Hermione that scowl was a special scowl reserved for her because she got away from him last night. Whether it was or not, was anybody's guess. 

Snape could tell that Miss Granger had not slept well last night. Her eyes had slight dark circles under them, and her skin color was a little off. He didn't wonder. Almost getting raped by your Potions Professor up against a dungeon wall would have that effect on a young witch. Damn Albus and his meddlings. He was sure now that the Headmaster watched him closely. How else would the old wizard have known he was about to ravage his golden girl within an inch of her life? He would have to find a way to divine what kind of magic Albus was using to watch him. He was just as bad as Voldemort.

He looked at Hermione again. She had Potions with him this morning. She probably thought she was safe in class with so many potential witnesses present. She was safe from getting reamed, but not out of his reach, as she would soon find out. He didn't plan to let up on her. When he had pressed against her, he felt her trembling and it wasn't fear. At least she wasn't the whimpering little chit he thought she might be. He had been of the mind she might cry when he cornered her, not that it would have made any difference to him. He had taken crying women before. Generally he'd do his best to make them cry harder. Miss Granger probably would hold back the tears until he actually started pummeling her. He was almost sure she was a virgin, and if she was, he'd make sure she never forgot her first. Gentle, he was not.

Snape glanced over to the head of the table, and saw Dumbledore watching him with a sober look on his face. For a moment, the Professor thought about throwing an obscene hand gesture his way. He always thought about that, flipping the Headmaster the bird, but never did it, tempting as it was. Though he despised Albus, he still had to show him respect, even if the cruel bastard set him up to be tortured at least once a month. Actually, he was expecting Albus to come up with some new painful bit of disinformation shortly, especially considering he had his tool firmly focused on Miss Granger. Didn't the Headmaster realize that he was just going to make him harder on the young witch? Probably. But as long as the Potions Master didn't tamper with her brain, the Headmaster would just accept it, like he accepted every other black act he committed, so long as he kept bringing him news of Voldemort.

He looked back at the Gryffindor table to find Miss Granger gone. No matter. In another half hour she would be seated securely in his domain.

* * *

When Hermione entered the Potions classroom, instead of taking her usual seat in the front of the class, directly in front of the Professor's desk, she took an end seat on the third row. Since there were no assigned seats she felt this would not be a problem. The class had a tendency to fill up in the back first, the last seats taken being those in the front row, occupied by the unfortunate latecomers. Other than Hermione, no one willingly sat in front of Snape. It was like sticking a bull's eye on your forehead. 

At exactly ten, the Professor swept into the room, his robes billowing. He walked quickly behind his desk, stood and surveyed the room, taking a quick mental attendance check. He saw Hermione seated in the third row and scowled.

"Miss Granger, why are you seated in the third row?" he asked her. The students all turned to look at her.

"I just thought I'd like a change, Professor. I can see you fine from here," Hermione responded.

"Yes, well I cannot see YOU well from here. And given your dismal inclination to help other students cheat, Miss Granger, I would rather have you up front where I can curb your desire to render aid to the less gifted," the Potions Master responded smoothly, "Now, take your usual seat. Ten points from Gryffindor."

Hermione scowled at him.

"Why take points from me?' she spat, furious at his unfairness.

"Because I can, Miss Granger," he said silkily, his eyes glinting at her as she walked to the front row and sidled in, sitting down in front of him, her face frowned up.

The Potions Master smirked at her, then walked from around his desk, and started pacing back and forth in front of the class.

"Now due to the usual slew of low marks earned by the destitute of brain, of which this class is in abundance of, we will be reviewing the last chapter and writing a summary of each paragraph, IN CLASS to be handed in at the end of the session, " he said, then he looked at Hermione pointedly. "Except for you, Miss Granger. Your mark was passable, barely."

Hermione seethed. She had aced that assignment and she knew it. The Potions Master walked back around his desk, opened it and pulled out a list. He walked back around the desk to where Hermione sat, and handed it to her. She looked at it, then up at him, her brow furrowed.

"What's this?" she asked him.

"That Miss Granger, is a list of Potions I would like you to collect from my Potions stores. You will find a cart there to put them on. I need them for a project I am working on. There is also a short ladder folded against the far wall. You will need it to reach the shelves on top," he replied.

Hermione scanned the list.

"There are forty potions here!" she said.

"The sooner you start locating them, the sooner you'll finish," the Potions Master said smoothly, "I suggest you get started, Miss Granger, or you can finish looking for them in detention this evening." He arched his brow at her.

To the other students, it seemed like a normal, snarky gesture on the part of the Potions Master, but to Hermione it meant something else entirely. It meant she would be alone with Snape, and he planned to finish what he started the night before. If she skipped the detention, she would be written up and it would be a blot on her record. Her shoulders slumped and quietly she got up from her desk and left the room to go to the stores. The other students watched her go.

Snape slammed his hand on his desk.

"What are you all gawking at? You have an assignment to do. Did I fail to mention that those who fail to summarize the whole chapter by the end of class will get double failing marks?" he sneered. The sound of turning pages filled the room as every student hit the books.

Snape left the room, heading for the Potions stores.

He walked quietly up to the open door and saw Hermione bent over in the corner of the storeroom, reaching for a bottle way in the back of the shelf. He slipped in and quietly closed the door behind him. Hermione noticed the loss of outside light, and turned around, her eyes wide, her heart rising to her throat.

The Professor leaned back against the door, his black eyes on her, expressionless.

"Alone again, Miss Granger," he said in a low voice.

Hermione swallowed. She could seem to get any words to come out of her mouth as she looked at the dark wizard lounging against the door. She began to get that feeling in her lower belly again.

"Miss Granger, I suggest you continue looking for those potions if you don't want detention with me tonight," he said to her, his eyes sweeping over her slowly. She was quite curvy under her robes.

"Yes sir," she managed to rasp out, "but would you please open the door? I need more light."

The Professor smirked at her and stood up quickly, making her jump nervously. He chuckled and opened the door.

"Your nerves seem bad, Miss Granger. Not sleeping well?" he asked her, studying her face.

She shook her head.

"Well, come by my classroom tonight after curfew, and I'll give you something to help you sleep," he purred at her, his meaning unmistakable. Hermione managed to gain a bit more courage now that the door was open.

"I'm sure I'll be able to sleep tonight," she said, "I don't need any help."

Suddenly, the Professor was against her, trapping her in the corner of the storeroom. The bottles on the shelf rattled as he ground himself against her brutally. He was rock hard. Hermione gasped, feeling as if a sheet of fire had washed over her. One of his cool pale hands moved upward to stroke her face, then slid down over her throat, then cupped her breast through her robe, squeezing it lightly before finding her nipple and pulling it. Hermione's mouth dropped open and her eyes closed as he continued caressing her breast and rubbing himself against her, his breath quickening as she responded, helplessly moving against him. Suddenly he stiffened.

"You see? You want me, Miss Granger. Detention. Tonight. Eight o'clock. Knickers optional," he growled, pulling away from her and reaching to the top shelf. He took down a bottle of deflating draught and drank from it. He stood there a moment, looking at her, the bottle still raised in his hand.

"I wish you could see your face," he said. "It is proof positive you want to dance with a death eater. And you will, Miss Granger."

Hermione was panting, tongues of fire licking at her thighs as the Potions Master replaced the bottle on its shelf and left the storeroom in a billow of robes, not looking back.

Hermione pushed herself out of the corner, confused at what just happened, her entire body tingling.

"Why didn't I scream?" she asked herself, already knowing the answer as another wave of desire washed over her.

She did want to dance with a death eater.

* * *

Hermione could find no reason to let the Professor do this to her. Not one reason why he deserved her. She couldn't find a single reason why she should go down to the dungeons at eight o'clock other than to keep from getting written up for skipping an assigned detention. 

Hermione sat cross-legged in her bed, her belly all-aquiver, trying to figure out why she wanted to go to the dark wizard. Why she wanted to give up her virginity to a man who wouldn't give a damn about it. She was trying to use logic, unable to see that logic had nothing to do with desire. Logically, every answer said, stay away from him. That she was crazy to trust this wicked, admittedly evil man. But every nerve ending in her body was crying out for his touch.

Hermione went over the list again.

He had treated her unfairly for the whole time she attended Hogwarts, browbeat her, insulted her, gave her marks she didn't deserve, and took house points for no good reason. He had told her he was evil and would take pleasure in giving her pain. He had shown her how brutal he was through the shared image of him forcefully taking her. He had said he was a death eater despite being a spy for the Order, and did what death eaters do. Which meant he had participated in the rape and murder of innocent women as well as others. She had seen him kill two men and ruthlessly dispose of their bodies. He was rude, unlikable, sarcastic, and cruel. There was nothing good about him, nothing at all. He was the antithesis of every thing she had been taught to respect in a wizard.

Hermione sighed.

She had begun this path with the crazy idea the Professor was a noble and courageous man, risking life and limb for the good of the wizarding world, unappreciated and alone, forced into a life he abhorred, and her body latched on to that image. When the reality of what and who he really was, was made plain, that he embraced the evil he was immersed in, her body didn't care. It had already made its choice. Hermione had heard once that a hot body and a hard tool have no conscience. Obviously, the statement was true in this case. She was burning up for the Potions Master wanting nothing more than to experience him and all his darkness. Maybe she was just tired of all this 'goodness' that surrounded her. Maybe she was going through a teenaged rebellious stage, choosing someone her parents and friends would not approve of to show her independence. Maybe she was sexually deviant by nature and wanted to be thoroughly abused and humiliated by the man. She shuddered.

Or maybe she just wanted to be touched by evil.

* * *

Snape sat in the armchair before the fireplace, tucking in yet another firewhiskey. He drank three so far, and had a good buzz on. His black eyes flicked toward the clock. It read six-thirty. Shit. He'd been nursing an erection all day, and it seemed like someone had spelled time. The closer it got to eight o'clock, the slower time moved. He had half a mind to don his invisibility cloak, go to Gryffindor tower and do Hermione right under McGonagall's pointed nose. Maybe he'd send that old bird a pensieve too. She'd definitely have a heart attack. No, she was a crazy bitch. She'd want to duel him or something equally asinine. Minerva wasn't wrapped too tight. If Albus hadn't been giving her the high hard one for the past thirty years, she would have been long gone. 

Anyway, the dungeons were much better. Less chance of interruptions here. He took another sip of his drink. He wondered how Hermione was feeling about this, knowing he'd be on top of her in less than two hours. The witch must be all tied up in knots, wondering what the hell she was doing. He loved doing young women. They were so screwed up in the head and ruled by their bodies. For Miss Granger it had to be doubly hard, no doubt she was trying to find some logic to this, when there wasn't any. He was sexy to her. Dangerous. Off-limits. Wrong. That's why she was going to let him have her. He went against everything they had drilled into her head. She needed to know what evil was for herself and he fit the bill. He had always been cruel to her. Maybe she even hoped for a bit of kindness from him. If orgasms were kind, then she had nothing to worry about, he would be extremely kind to her as he stroked them out of her.

He wondered if she were a screamer.

* * *

It was seven o'clock now. Hermione was mentally and emotionally exhausted from all the useless thinking she had done. She felt off-kilter, as if the whole world had gone askew. There was a sense of unreality drifting over her. She roused herself and divestoed her clothing, then walked into the bathroom and turned on the shower. She held her hand under the spray, and let it run a little cool before she stepped into it. She stood there, leaning her forehead against the tile, letting the water run over her sensitized body. Her nipples hardened as the liquid ran in rivulets over her skin and she spun around so her the back of her head rested on the tile and the water ran over her breasts, belly and below, swirling into the drain. She stood like this a few minutes, then began to wash. 

Finished with her shower, Hermione decided not to wear any scent. She wasn't trying to attract the Potions Master. He was already attracted. Applied scent would probably make no difference to him. The only scent he wanted filling those large nostrils was the scent of sex. Her sex. The delicious feelings washed back over her, settling between her thighs. It was like a sweet yearning for something she couldn't reach alone, and it was powerfully connected to the Potions Master, and he was drawing her in as if she were tied to him. This was probably the most stupid, dangerous thing she had ever done in her life. Giving herself willingly to a death eater. A man without morals or conscience. A man without goodness. A man whose darkness was calling her.

She walked naked into her bedroom and looked at the clock. It was seven-thirty. She opened her wardrobe, trying to decide what to wear. That wouldn't matter much to him either, she thought. It was what was under her clothes that he wanted. At least he had dispelled any notions of romance. But how many women let men shag them who only pretended to love them to have at their bodies? Countless. At least she knew what he wanted. He was evil, but honest. Would it be better to have a good man who was a liar? But it was strange. Both times he cornered her, he said this was what she wanted. Since she was going to him, he must be right in his assessment.

Hermione picked out a school uniform, what she would normally wear to detention. She doubted if it would thwart him any. She was a student after all. She put on her bra and panties. Simple white cotton, nothing fancy. Virginal. She had fancy underclothes, but she didn't want to wear them. She didn't need to arouse him. He was already aroused. Better to just go as she was. Not put on any pretense. Just go.

She put on her uniform and her Gryffindor robes, and looked at the clock. It was seven-forty five. She drew in a deep breath, walked to the bedroom door, opened it and exited her room.

It was time to go and serve her 'detention'.

888888888888888888888888

Hermione walked through the dungeon corridor, her belly knotted with fear and desire. Part of her wanted to run back to the safety of Gryffindor tower, but she had the feeling he would come and seek her out. Plus, there was a part of her that didn't want to run, that didn't want him to see her run. Didn't want him to think she was a coward. Shit, even now she wanted his approval. Something he had never given her.

Hermione stopped in front of the Potions classroom. He was waiting for her on the other side of the door. She steeled herself and knocked.

There was no answer.

She knocked again. Still, no answer. Unsure of what to do, she stood there for a minute. Where was he? Hesitantly she tried the door. It clicked and opened. She walked into the classroom. The Professor was not at his desk. This was odd. She closed the classroom door and walked into the classroom a bit further. No, he definitely was not in here. She noticed his office door was open.

"Professor?" she called.

No answer.

She walked to the Potions office and peeked inside. It too was empty. She walked in and looked around. Ghastly things in jars gazed back at her sightlessly. His office was so morbid. Dead things everywhere. She was about to leave, when she saw the bookcase was twisted into the room at an odd angle. She walked over to investigate, and saw it was an opening to another room.

"Professor?" she called.

Still no answer. What was going on? She was certain he'd be waiting for her. She entered the room. It was a huge study, with books lining the wall ceiling to floor. There was a fireplace, two armchairs, a couch, a desk and a writing table. There was a sliding sound behind her. Hermione turned quickly, just in time to see the entrance close and seal itself flush to the wall. She ran over to it, trying to find a handle, but there was none.

"Planning on going somewhere, Miss Granger?" a silky voice asked.

"Professor?"

A tall, lean form rose from one of the armchairs, turned and walked toward her slowly. It was the Professor. He had been sitting there in the armchair, listening to her call him the whole time, waiting for her to wander into his study.

He walked up to Hermione, stopping inches away. He was dressed in his teacher's robes. His black eyes raked over her speculatively. Hermione's heart began to pound even as the yearning ache between her legs began to grow. He hadn't even touched her yet.

He walked around her slowly, watching her reaction to his proximity.

"What do you expect from me, Miss Granger? Gentleness? Kindness?" he asked her.

Hermione at first didn't know what to say. She hadn't expected him to ask her any questions.

"No," she replied, "You've never shown an inclination to either before," she said.

He leaned over so his warm breath wafted across his ear.

"Good that you realize that, my little witch. I have neither of those qualities," he said in a low, dangerous voice. Hermione felt herself getting wet.

He walked back around her, stopping in front of her, this time standing very close, intruding on her personal space.

"Miss Granger, you have lived a charmed life ever since you arrived at Hogwarts. You have been coddled, manipulated and used by your friends, and your teachers. Your future has already been planned for you. Your mind is a great treasure, formidable, powerful. You will be a pawn in this miserable war like I am. But you will not have my freedom. You will be chained to the ideals of your manipulators, like a puppy," Snape said, sneering at her.

"This war isn't about good and evil, Miss Granger. It's about power and the manipulation of it. Dumbledore uses everyone, just like Voldemort, except he bends them to his will under the guise of a kindly old headmaster. You've been bent to the wheel without your conscious knowledge. Your whole life in the magical world has been one long march to servitude. Once you are in, the Order will never let you go, Miss Granger. Dumbledore will never let you go. Your mind is too valuable. If you try to leave, you'll find yourself in great trouble. If you don't believe me, when you leave here, test it. Disagree with one of Albus' many plans for you," the Professor said, placing a long finger under her chin and raising her face to his.

"Tonight will be your first honest experience at Hogwarts, I assure you," he said silkily, his eyes darkening as he looked at her, his lust starting to show clearly.

Suddenly Snape grabbed her hand and pressed it hard against his erection. Hermione gasped and tried to draw her hand back, but he wouldn't let her. She began to struggle.

"You came here for this, Miss Granger. Stop struggling. It excites me in a way that you won't find pleasing," he hissed. But Hermione wasn't listening.

She pushed his chest hard with her other hand and the Potions Master reacted violently, turning her and wrapping his arm around her throat, pulling her back against him and choking her, cutting off her air until she ceased struggling. All the while he ground against her. She slumped against him and he loosened his hold, but still kept his arm around her throat. He leaned down against her ear.

"I am not a nice wizard, Miss Granger. I do not take kindly to being pushed or disobeyed and will retaliate. I don't care if you are witch or wizard. Touching me through my robes is nothing compared to what you will do tonight," he said, bringing his other hand up to her breast and fondling it roughly through her robes.

"As of now, you belong to me…every part of you, every inch of flesh, every breath you take, and you will do what I tell you to do, or I guarantee I will make this even more painful for you than I originally planned. Do we understand each other, Miss Granger?" he whispered.

Hermione nodded. She was crazy to have come here to this wizard.

"Having regrets?" Snape asked her. She shook her head, and he tightened his grip on her throat, still fondling her breast.

"Don't…lie….to…me," he growled, choking her a bit before letting her loose again. She gasped.

"I'll ask you again. Having regrets?" he said softly.

This time Hermione nodded.

"Good," he purred, "Honesty is rare, Miss Granger. I have a strong appreciation for it. You will answer me honestly tonight. Whatever I ask you."

He took his arm away from her throat and turned her around to face him, pressing his body against hers, before pulling away a little, recapturing her hand and pressing it again to his erection. This time she didn't try to move it.

"Squeeze it," he hissed at her.

Hermione complied and he groaned. His organ was hard, but seemed delicate. This was what he was going to use on her. She shuddered, feeling a stab of desire despite herself. Snape felt it and again raised her face to him.

"You're excited aren't you? Remember. The truth," he said, his black eyes hard as he looked down at her.

She nodded.

"Talk!" he spat.

"Yes," she said softly.

"Yes, what?" he asked her, his eyes glittering

"Yes, I'm excited," she responded, lowering her eyes in shame. The Potions Master let out a shudder himself.

"I love virgins," he said, "They're always so ashamed that they want to be fucked."

Snape said this to make the act he was about to perform on Hermione sound as nasty as possible. He delighted in being crass.

"It's not that," Hermione mumbled, her hand still on his member.

"What? Speak up, Miss Granger," the Potions Master said.

"I said it's not that I'm ashamed I want to be fucked," she said louder, using his term.

The Professor raised an eyebrow.

"Really? So what is it then, Miss Granger?" he asked her.

She looked up at Snape, meeting his eyes steadily.

"I'm ashamed that I want to be fucked by you," she replied.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading. 


	3. Chapter 3

Inside the Blackest Heart Part 3

The Potions Master scowled down at her for a moment. Then his mouth quirked. Then he started chuckling, then broke out into rich laughter. Hermione didn't see anything remotely funny in what she said. It was the truth.

"I asked for honesty, didn't I, Miss Granger?" he said, wiping at his watering eyes. Then he sobered, his black eyes gazing at her hotly.

"I suggest you follow what your body tells you. Your body is much more honest than you are. Your body isn't ashamed of wanting me," he said.

The Potions Master reached in his robes pocket, withdrew his wand and divestoed her robes, leaving her before him in her school uniform. He flicked his wand at each button on her blouse. Each button undid itself until her blouse popped open, leaving her bra exposed.

"Did you dream about me shagging you, Miss Granger?" The Potions Master asked, slipping his hand inside her blouse and letting his fingertips graze the swell of her breasts, before drifting down her waist then sliding slowly across her belly. He slipped them into the waistband of her skirt and pulled her against him. Hermione was almost squirming at the aching sensation between her legs.

"Yes," she said, wishing now that he'd get on with it. This was torture.

"You came, didn't you?" he asked her, his nose flaring.

"Yes," she admitted.

Snape smirked

"This is one of those rare occasions, Miss Granger, that real life will undoubtedly be better than your dreams. Touch my erection again. Caress me," Snape growled as he began to unbutton his robes. Hermione didn't hesitate and pressed her hand firmly against his hardness hidden beneath his robes and rubbed it gently, a small gush moistening her heated apex even more. The Potions Master hissed, his eyes locked to her face.

"Have you ever seen a wizard's broomstick before, Miss Granger?" he breathed, pulling off his robes. He stood in a white button-up shirt and black dress pants. He wore a belt with the Slytherin crest as a buckle.

"No," she said, "Not a real one. In books."

He began to undo his buckle. He'd give her a good view, up close and personal. Hermione's eyes went wide as more wetness rolled through her.

The Potions Master paused, and he lifted his head slightly, his nostrils pulsating a bit.

"I can smell your arousal, Miss Granger. Are you wet?" he asked her. His breathing noticeably increased.

"Yes," Hermione answered quietly.

"Give me your knickers," he said. "Use your other hand to retrieve them. Keep rubbing me."

Hermione continued to caress the Potions Master's erection through his pants, but hesitated removing her knickers a moment too long, and his face blackened. His pale hand shot up and wrapped in her hair quickly and painfully. He yanked it, jerking her head and making her lean toward him. It hurt, but she wouldn't cry out.

"I…don't…like…disobedience. Your knickers," he snarled.

Still holding her hair, Snape watched as Hermione awkwardly removed her knickers. She handed them to him, continuing to massage him. It felt as if he were getting bigger and hard.

Snape held Hermione's knickers up so she could see them as well as he. The crotch was soaked with her juices. He raised an eyebrow at her, then brought the wet undergarment to his nose and breathed in deeply. He released her hair when he did this. She felt his erection jump beneath her hand.

Suddenly he swung her around, and started pushing her roughly backwards. She was stumbling over her feet, and she fell on to the couch. He grabbed her and dragged her upward so she was sitting with her back against the armrest, her legs stretched across the couch. The Professor took off her shoes and socks, dropping them to the floor. Then he ran his hands along her bare legs, over her hips and inner thighs. This made Hermione buckle and gasp. Then he stopped and looked down at her, first at her face, then his black eyes moved downward to her skirt. His expression made Hermione's belly begin to do flip-flops.

Watching her, he sat down on the other end of the couch. Then he slowly leaned until he was almost completely lowered to the couch, then began to crawl toward her, his eyes predatory and hungry.

As he slunk toward her, he pushed her legs apart. One hung over the edge of the couch to the floor, and he lifted her other leg over his shoulder as he lowered his head between her thighs.

Hermione had no idea what he was doing, but she knew better than to protest. Then she felt his fingers touching her core lightly. Oh gods. It was like being struck by little bolts of lightning. She gasped and bucked her hips.

"Be still!" Snape hissed, raising his head and looking up at her angrily before lowering it again. Hermione tried to be still as she felt him part her lower lips. Then the Professor blew a warm breath over the sensitive core of her flesh that made her squeal and buck again.

Frowning, Snape raised his head again. The look in his black eyes was almost deadly. He looked like a starving animal that found out someone was standing between him and his kill. He gave her a black, dangerous look.

"Miss Granger, you have one more time to disobey me," the Potions Master hissed.

"I can't help it," Hermione said brokenly. No one had ever touched her there before. And that was where the ache was, and his hands felt so good. She couldn't help moving.

Snape on the other hand, wanted to taste her at his leisure. He knew she had never experienced this before, but that was her problem. He wanted her still, obedient and compliant so he could concentrate on enjoying her. None of which she was being. She was dangerously close to being struck.

"Gods, I don't have the patience for this," Snape muttered, looking at her wet orifice hungrily.

An idea came to him. He lifted his head, and his hand. He made a motion with his finger.

"Petrificus Partialus" he said.

Suddenly, Hermione couldn't move the lower half of her body. She could feel it, but she couldn't move her hips, legs or thighs. He could do wandless magic.

"What did you do?" Hermione asked him in a panicked voice.

The Potions Master smirked at the note of terror in her question. He liked it.

"Just simplified matters," he purred, lowering his head between her thighs again.

* * *

When the Potions Master latched his teeth lightly on her rigid peak and pulled, Hermione screamed but was unable to wrest her body away because of the spell. So she did what she could do, and reactively pulled his long, silky hair, which was not a good idea. It resulted in him propelling himself up over her body and wrapping his hands around her throat, bending her head back and squeezing her neck until her eyes bulged. She grabbed at the dark wizard's hands desperately, trying to break his maniacal grip and draw a breath, but he was too strong. Hermione's vision started to dim when the Potions Master suddenly caught himself and released her, his black eyes wild and hard as stone as he looked down at her, breathing heavily as if regaining control was a supreme effort 

"Do you want to die?" he asked her, a snarl on his face, as he gazed at the gasping, sobbing witch as if it were his first time truly seeing her. Hermione looked up at him with bloodshot eyes.

"No," she rasped, her heart pounding. He had almost killed her for just pulling his hair. She hadn't even meant to…but he hurt her.

"You're well on your way to not surviving tonight, Miss Granger. You don't fuck with a Death Eater, you stupid chit. You do what I say and you'll only come away with a few bruises and a few sore orifices. You don't and you may not come away at all. Again, do we understand each other, Miss Granger?" he asked her, his expression cold and heartless.

Hermione swallowed, and it hurt.

"Yes," she rasped.

The Professor slid back down her body and this time raised both her legs up and began to lick her. Fear had cooled the fire between Hermione's legs, but as the Potions Master applied his talented tongue to her, the burn returned, and Hermione began to moan as his hot tongue bathed her sensitive flesh, He began nibbling on her peak again, then soothing it with her tongue making her upper body thrash and cry out his title. She felt him chuckle against her as he began to twist his tongue, running it around the rim of her entrance and lapping up the juices that trickled out of her. Hermione wanted to pull him closer to her now, but was afraid to touch him. Her hands dug into the sofa, clutching reflexively as the Death Eater took his fill of her, listening to her moans grow louder and louder as he took her towards her first male-inspired orgasm.

Hermione let out a piercing shriek as she exploded and a powerful wave of pleasure washed over her. The Professor quickly released the spell and her hips rose, straining against his face as he felt her pulse against his tongue, pushing out her creamy release. The dark wizard bit her inner thigh, tasted her salty blood, and she shrieked again at the pain. He then wrapped his arms around the witch's surging thighs and drank her sweetness in, reveling in the fact that he was the first man to ever taste her honey.

Snape pressed his nose into Hermione's folds, rubbing it over her then sucking at her hard, drawing out the last delicious remnants of her release as she whimpered. He rested his forehead against her inner thigh, his eyes closed and sighed with satisfaction. It had been a long time since he'd eaten out an untouched woman. It was a true delicacy. He looked up at Hermione, whose face was flushed, her eyes still closed as her chest rose and fell. She was still thrusting her hips a little, and looked totally ready to be penetrated. But what was good for the goose…

The Professor reached down and finished unbuckling his belt. He opened his pants, reached into his silk boxers and pulled out his swollen organ. He stroked it as he looked up at the unsuspecting witch.

Hermione was still shuddering from the power of her release. She had never experienced an orgasm that powerful. Sure, she had masturbated and had small climaxes, but nothing like that. She lay there, recovering, when suddenly she felt herself yanked down flat on the couch. Her eyes flew open and she looked up to see the Potions Master climbing over her, straddling her shoulders, and gripping the armrest with both hands. She saw his member for the first time, looking at it cross-eyed as it dragged across her chin. It was larger than she thought it should be, pinkish-red with pulsing veins and a large, fluted head.

"My turn, Miss Granger," the Potions Master said in a low, intense voice…dripping with lust.

"I don't know how…" she began.

"Every woman knows how," Snape responded. "Just open your mouth, Miss Granger, and suck. I will handle the rest." He reached between his legs, grasped his erection and pressed it to her lips, pushing down with his hips.

"Open up!" he snarled, reaching back, grasping her breast and twisting it. Her mouth flew open to scream and he shoved himself into it quickly, pushing it to the back of her throat. Hermione gagged but it didn't matter to the Potions Master who began to thrus in and out between her lips, hissing in pleasure as he filled her wet warmth.

"Yes, Miss Granger, now suck it!" he breathed, jerking a bit.

Hermione began to pull on his hard, silken shaft when he withdrew, gagging a little when he shoved it back in. He was in control of the depth, pumping his hips downward, filling her mouth, his head thrown back with pleasure as he dominated the young witch, who for all her inexperience was doing a good job of blowing him. Of course, this position was guaranteed to bring the desired results.

"Yesssss. You're a natural, Miss Granger," he purred, picking up the pace and moving in and out of her mouth rapidly. Hermione quickly learned to relax on his down stroke so she didn't gag so much as his glistening rod buried itself between her lips over and over. Hermione felt the heat beginning to grow in her belly again. This was turning her on.

"Use your tongue, Miss Granger, take it out and lick it," Snape hissed, stopping his motions so Hermione could comply. She grasped his thickness. It was warm, hard and delicate in her hands, the hot blood pulsing in her curled palm. She licked it experimentally, and Snape jerked in her hand, growling, then pressed forward for more tongue. She began to lick it in earnest, over the swollen head and up and down his shaft, getting turned on by his growls, grunts and obscenities as he savored her attentions. She cautiously brought up her other hand and touched his balls. He jerked even worse, groaning at the contact. He pushed back into her mouth and started thrusting again as Hermione sucked and used her tongue, rolling his balls around in her palm gently.

"Fuck, Miss Granger. You were born to suck," he breathed. She noticed his breath was getting raspy, and his stomach and balls were tightening up. He began to thrust faster, a growl growing in the back of his throat.

"Get ready. You swallow everything," he half snarled at her as he began to shudder. Hermione felt his cool balls suddenly draw up in her hands, as the Potions Master let out a cry and pressed to the back of her throat and holding himself there, filling her mouth with his hot release.

At first Hermione gagged but then started to swallow. She found sucking him made it easier to swallow and he groaned, throwing his head back and pressing deeper as she applied herself to consuming all of the release he gave her. Finally the pulsing stopped, and panting, he looked down at her, his hair hanging around his face, still in her mouth.

"Very, very good Miss Granger. Too bad I can't give you marks for fellatio. They would be quite high," he commented, drawing himself out of her mouth, and standing up, his limp organ hanging contentedly over his pants.

Hermione licked her glistening lips, but said nothing as her amber eyes looked up at him. She was aching again, and she was ready to lose her virgin status to the Death Eater. She couldn't help writhing a little. The Professor watched her.

"You're ready for the main event, aren't you Miss Granger? Well, you are going to have to wait a little while," he said, pulling her up to a sitting position, then sitting down on the couch himself, and leaning back, studying her. There were bruises around her neck, but she was lucky he was able to stop himself. Albus would have covered up the method of her murder of course, but he didn't want to kill the little chit. As long as she cooperated, and didn't resist him, there was no reason for it.

His black eyes swept over her partially opened blouse, bra and skirt.

"You can remove your clothes, Miss Granger," he said.

Hermione knew this wasn't a request. She stood up and slid her blouse off, then her bra, revealing her large, firm breasts. Her rosy nipples were hard peaks. The Potions Master's eyes glittered as he looked at them. She slid off her skirt, and his black eyes fell to her neatly trimmed chestnut bush.

"Come here," he said hoarsely, spreading his legs so she could stand between them.

"Lean down," he commanded. Hermione leaned over and he grasped both of her breasts and fondled them roughly, making her gasp with pleasure. He licked one nipple, then the other, then pushed both breasts tightly together and sucked them, getting both peaks in his mouth at once. Hermione moaned as he licked, bit and sucked her breasts with enjoyment. Then he pulled away and released them. He grasped her buttocks and kneaded the full globes.

"You are very curvaceous, Miss Granger. You've been hiding this body under your robes. Trying to keep the young wizards off you, I suppose," he said. Hermione didn't respond. Her entire body was tingling. She wanted him to do her. She looked surreptiously at his tool, which still rested contently in his lap. He followed her eyes, and smirked.

"Getting impatient, Miss Granger?" he asked her, looking amused.

"A little," Hermione said.

The Potions Master pulled her down into his lap, slid his pale hand between her thighs, found her entrance and checked her hymen. It was slightly torn. He carefully slid a long finger inside her, watching her face intently.

"Ooh," Hermione groaned, closing her eyes as his finger entered her and began thrusting. Her hips began to move, as she bit her lip against her growing pleasure. Snape pressed deeper and breathed deeply, as he throbbed in response to the virgin panting and moaning on his lap. He slid another finger inside her, tearing her hymen more as he worked his hand faster. It was only a slight pain.

The witch whispered, "More. Please Professor," her amber eyes half-lidded and pleading as she looked at him, her hips rolling helplessly as he finger popped her. Hermione's wanton response was quickly sending blood through Snape's pulsing shaft. He was swelling quickly.

"I'll give you more, all right," he growled, withdrawing his hand to her disappointed cry, and pushing her off his lap roughly. She almost fell to the floor as the Potions Master stood quickly and began unfastening his shirt, his black eyes fastened on her chestnut bush.

* * *

Snape undid his cuffs as his eyes raked over Hermione who was standing in front of him, her breasts rising and falling with excitement, her curling hair wrapped around her head wildly. She looked untamed, her amber eyes watching him hungrily as he undressed. Seems the witch had a dark side to her as well, and he appeared to be at the core of it. Snape doubted any normal witch would be panting and wetting herself for a wizard who had only minutes before almost killed her. And she took to having a tool forced down her throat like a hippogriff took to the air. Hmm. So Miss Granger was a masochist. 

Albus' manipulations probably had a lot to do with that. Putting the girl in charge of so many things, giving her responsibility after responsibility, grooming her for a heavy workload in the Order. Always being in charge, having to make major decisions and having no one else to carry the load. Teaching her to aggressively put her ideas and thoughts forward, to debate and argue every fine point, making her believe her upcoming service in the Order made the future of the wizarding world itself her personal responsibility. When did she ever have a chance to let go and have someone else do the work? She probably felt guilty about wishing she didn't have to do the things she did. Probably felt she was being selfish by not wanting all the responsibilities she had now, and were waiting for her in the future. She also probably had the subconscious desire to rebel against all the Pollyanna principles drilled into her and do something entirely wicked. Hence, getting brutally pummeled by her evil Potions Professor who was also a Death Eater

He could live with that.

Snape pulled off his shirt, dropped it to the floor then stepped out of his pants and boxers. Hermione's eyes swept over his pale form. He was strongly built and had a lean, but well-defined body, not a sparse piece of flesh anywhere on him. His chest was well muscled, his belly flat and rippled, and he had the legs of a runner. In fact, his body seemed younger than his face, but possibly that was because he had witnessed and participated in so much evil that it aged his features. The idea that his hard, lean body would soon be all over her as he pound inside her made her shudder and again, she became wet, so wet the lubrication trickled down her inner thighs.

Snape watched her take him in, noting the subtle signs of her desire. He could smell her arousal even stronger than before and noted that her thighs were glistening with her juices. Damn, she wanted him. It was a long time since he'd been wanted. Normally he just took women who most definitely did not want to be taken.

"Ready to lose that cherry, Miss Granger?" he asked, walking forward and pulling her against him roughly, sliding his hands down her back and gripping both cheeks of her buttocks and grinding against her, making her gasp with need. Hermione pressed back against him, rubbing his body with hers, her breasts mashed against his belly. Snape's nostrils flared as he grasped her so tightly by the shoulders his fingers were digging into her flesh, as looked around the room trying to decide where and how to take her. He thought he would like to see her face when he ripped through her hymen, but didn't want to do it in the missionary position. His eyes fell on the writing desk. It was about the right height for penetration and sturdy.

"Over there, Miss Granger," he said pointing at the desk. "Go sit on the desk."

He watched as Hermione walked over to the desk, her hips rolling invitingly as she walked, and his eyes went hooded. Maybe he'd take that too before she left. Make it a three for three night. Hermione hopped up on the desk, her amber eyes glued to his, her chest rising and falling with excitement and desire. He'd bet his salary the desk beneath her was dripping wet.

He looked at Hermione locking his black orbs to hers. She swallowed as his eyes went hard and he strode toward her and stood in front of her. He yanked her forward, his eyes still locked to her face, full of lust and hunger. He positioned himself at her sopping entrance.

"Welcome to the real world, Miss Granger," he growled, pulling her forward and ramming into her as hard as he could, stretching, then tearing through what remained of her hymen and slamming against her cervix.

Hermione screamed as if she had been cut in half and writhed around him. The Professor grasped her waist firmly holding her in place and tore into her, plunging deep and taking her hard, without any regard for her comfort or cries of pain. She was wet, tight and deep and he was going to go deeper. He looked down at his blood-streaked member and groaned, increasing his stroke into the shrieking witch, gooshing and sloshing noisily between her thighs. He pushed Hermione down to her back roughly and dragged her further off the desk, wrapping his arms under her legs and spreading her wide, throwing himself into her sleeve with all his might. Her shrieks were like sweet music, and he wanted the crescendo to increase.

"Is it what you expected, Miss Granger?" he panted, shoving himself in her up to his balls then gyrating his pelvis causing her to cry out his title again and again.

"Yes, yes," he grunted with pleasure, the resumed plunging into her.

Suddenly he heard his name called.

"Severus? Severus!" It was Albus' voice, coming from the floo.

"Stay here. Don't move," he said to Hermione, pulling out of her still writhing body and walking over to the floo. Albus' head was there, and the Headmaster's eyes widened as the naked Potions Master strode over and stopped in front of the fireplace, fully erect, his organ and thighs streaked with blood.

"Severus, what in the world are you doing?" the Headmaster said, shocked.

"I am deflowering Miss Granger. You interrupted me. Now what is it?" the Potions Master said tersely, knowing this knowledge would steam the Headmaster to no end.

The Headmaster's mouth worked silently for several moments as he digested what the Potions Master said. Then his blue eyes narrowed.

"You are to tell Voldemort that we are moving a group of very gifted muggle-borns to a location in Upper Stranton on the 14th of this month to begin training for the Order as assassins, of which he will be the target," Albus said gruffly. "We want to draw his forces out and ambush them."

Snape scowled at the Headmaster. Albus knew that the Dark Lord would punish him to within an inch of his life for this erroneous information, if not kill him outright. The Headmaster smirked at him darkly.

"Will there at least be muggle-borns present?" the Potions Master asked.

"We can't risk innocents, Severus. You know that," Albus said.

"Yes. But you can risk me," Snape said coldly.

"You are hardly innocent," the Headmaster replied, frowning slightly. "You will be fine, Severus. He needs you, just as I do."

The Headmaster shifted his eyes toward the corner of the room Snape had walked from. He looked back at Snape with real malice in his eyes.

"If you hurt that girl, Severus…so help me," the Headmaster said warningly.

"What I do to Miss Granger is no concern of yours, Headmaster. She is of the age of consent. Now, I have unfinished business with the 'woman' Albus. If you'll excuse me," the Potions Master said

Severus walked back over to the desk, yanked Hermione down and brutally entered her. She started shrieking again as he stroked her violently, knowing the Headmaster was still present. He wanted him to hear her. Albus lingered in the fireplace for a moment, listening to his golden girl getting the shit plowed out of her by the Potions Master and grimaced. Finally, he left the floo.

Hermione felt as if a white-hot bat was stroking her. The Potions Master was tearing into her sore core as if he owned it, beating against her cervix, pushing her body up the desk with the power of his strokes, and jerking her back down so he could continue pile driving into her as deep as possible. There was a dull sweet ache behind the pain, and it was growing larger and sweeter with every harsh stroke of Snape's tool. Hermione arched her back as bliss bubbled inside her, swelling up, lifting her with it.

"You're starting to feel it, aren't you?" Snape hissed, again throwing himself deep inside her and rotating his pelvis. This time he had hit a spot that made Hermione keen like a siren, and he kept rolling and thrusting right there until she burst apart with a choked scream, clamping down on his shaft so tightly he cried out from the pressure. Hermione orgasmed so hard her release gushed out around him, coating his pelvis in come. Delighted, he gave her tight, pulsing body a few more wrenching thrusts for good measure, then pulled out of her, and kneeled, pressing his face between her thighs, licking and slurping up all her succulent juices. Hermione shuddered, mumbling unintelligible words, made totally incoherent by her release and his greedy tongue.

When he had swallowed every drop of Hermione's release, Snape stood up and looked down on the witch. He was still hard as a rock and nowhere near done with her. Hermione was still panting and gyrating, her breasts rising and falling, her eyes closed, her body glistening with perspiration. The Potions Master leaned over her body and placed his lips close to her ear.

"Was it good, Miss Granger?" he asked her softly.

"Y..y..yes," she breathed.

"I'm glad you liked it…" he breathed. Suddenly he yanked her roughly off the desk, turned her around and bent her over it roughly.

"…because here's some more," he growled, entering her from behind.

* * *

The Professor had no mercy on the Gryffindor witch, and took her around the world, riding her brutally for several hours, with small breaks in between. It was after one am before he finished with her. Whatever innocence Hermione arrived at the Potions Master's study with, it was certainly gone now. The Potions Master had reamed her thoroughly on every piece of furniture in his study, as well as against several bookcases and twice on the cold stone floor. He bent and twisted her body into position after position until every muscle ached, and used every orifice for his pleasure. She had a hard time with him when he buggered her. She had to be choked and threatened into compliance twice before he attained his goal. And he had rode her like a hippogriff, gathering her long locks in his fists and using them like reins. 

When Hermione finally made it back to Gryffindor tower, the fat lady could hardly hear her speak the password, she was so hoarse from screaming

Climbing the stairs was a chore, but Hermione finally made it, opening her bedroom door and collapsing face first on her bed. She felt there was no part of her body the Potions Master didn't know intimately, and in fact, there wasn't. He had taken her body as if it were his own, and been completely merciless. She ached inside and out, but for the first time in her life, she felt free. Of what, she didn't know, but her mind was clear, and the usual nagging tightness in her head was gone. Snape had brutalized her horribly, but she didn't have a single regret. The aches she could take care of tomorrow. She'd get some healing draughts from the infirmary, come up with a feasible story as to why she needed so many. Say she was working on some project or something. No one questioned her. She was the consummate Gryffindor after all. Everybody trusted her.

Hermione rolled over to her back. She smelled like him. His scent was all over her body, all over her clothes. She felt like she belonged to him now, though it was obvious when he was done with her, he had no such inclinations. He just handed her clothes to her, watched her dress and told her good night. At least he had said that. Not once during their brutal coupling had he kissed her. But he had given her an innumerable amount of mind-blowing, toe-curling orgasms. Hermione swallowed painfully. She was thirsty as hell and her neck still hurt from him choking her. Her throat hurt as well, from screaming and having the Professor shove his member down it so roughly.

The witch was too tired to get up and undress. Her wand was in her other robes, and the wardrobe seemed miles away. So she crawled under the covers fully dressed, and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

* * *

Snape sat naked in the armchair in front of the fireplace, sipping a firewhiskey and feeling completely relaxed and sated. He was a little sore, but after taking Miss Granger the way he did, that was to be expected. He hadn't made himself sore with a single woman in a long time. He hadn't planned to spend so much time on the young witch, but she brought him extreme pleasure. Submissive but still stubborn enough to try to resist him, thus feeding his need for violence, yet not to the point of killing her. He sniffed the air. The whole study smelled of sex. Of her. Even the chairs. Well they would. He had taken her in both of them. He took another sip of firewhiskey and looked down at his loins. He hadn't scourgified himself yet. There were still a few crimson streaks of her virginal blood on his thighs, although sweat and her fluids had washed most of it away. He decided to let himself stay dirty for a while and enjoy the leftover scent of her. Well, he was sure of one thing. He had been immortalized in the mind of Miss Hermione Granger. An evil blot on that brilliant brain of hers. 

The Professor wondered if she remembered what he told her about joining the Order, and if she would test Albus. That would be a blow to the old coot if she mutinied on him. Yet Snape knew the Headmaster wouldn't let her go, and would find some way to manipulate her back under her thumb. But at least she would see, find out the old bastard wasn't as good and kind as she believed. Maybe even realize he simply operated on another level of evil.

The Headmaster was setting him up good this time, and was partially responsible for the way he had brutalized Miss Granger. The Professor had taken out his frustration on her as well as his lust. Knowing she was Albus' 'Princess' had made him more determined to turn her out completely. Now Miss Granger was no little girl anymore, and not just because of her age. She had acquired carnal knowledge in spades tonight, and actually took it rather well. She had cried a few times, but he was hurting her, so that was to be expected. But even though she cried, she never begged him to stop and that had been pretty impressive. Her masochism must run very deep.

Snape hoped that in the morning when she came to breakfast, she'd evidence some sign of the night she had spent with him, something obvious that would piss Albus off. Miss Granger had been walking like an old bowlegged woman when she left him and he was sure she'd be extremely stiff in the morning. He worked out everyday, and his own muscles were a bit sore. She had bruises around her neck, and a couple of small bites on parts of her body no one would see, but she would probably cover those up with a glamour spell, otherwise there would be too many questions. She surely wouldn't tell anyone she had been choked while getting reamed by her Potions teacher. It would be a toss up for which would be perceived as more horrible. Her being choked by him, or being shagged by him. What an uproar that would cause.

Snape yawned.

It would be interesting to see how she reacted to him in Potions class tomorrow. He imagined she would do a decent job of trying to pretend nothing happened between them. He wouldn't have a problem. He had sex with plenty of women who he totally ignored afterwards. Miss Granger would be just the same.

The Potions Master finished his firewhiskey, then rose and stretched, the fire painting his pale body in rich flickering tones. Feeling pretty good about himself, Snape retired to his bedroom, where he too had a dreamless night.

* * *

A/N: Thank you for reading. More to come. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Inside the Blackest Heart Part 4**

Hermione felt like she had been run over by a tribe of mountain trolls when she awoke early the next morning. She was so stiff she could barely move. Every part of her ached and throbbed, except for her head. It still felt abnormally clear. The witch pulled herself to the edge of the bed and opened her nightstand, taking out a piece of parchment and a quill. She scrawled a note to Madam Pomfrey explaining that she needed five vials of healing draught, two vials of pepper-up potion and two vials of replenishing potion, being that Professor Snape had requested she pick them up for his stores yesterday and it had slipped her mind. She then summoned a house elf, who looked at her rather suspiciously but delivered the note to the medi-witch. In a few moments, he returned with the vials and left.

It had gone just as easily as Hermione thought it would. Her signature at the bottom of the parchment had assured Madam Pomfrey compliance. It had never crossed the healer's mind that Hermione would lie about such a thing. As Hermione drank down the draughts, she considered how much she could get away with at Hogwarts if she wanted to. Her squeaky clean image and the staff's favoritism would cover a multitude of sins. Then she shook her head. Where the hell had that come from? Feeling a bit better, Hermione walked to her wardrobe and collected her wand, divestoing her clothing. She paid for that. Her knickers were stuck to her and were ripped away by the spell along with a few pubic hairs. Ouch!

She walked into the bathroom, plugged the tub and turned the jasmine scented spigot on high, filling the tub quickly. Before entering she tapped her thigh and a tiny blue square appeared. It glowed. She must have used the contraceptive patch correctly. She had stolen it from the infirmary yesterday afternoon while Poppy was in her office looking for some information on a healing spell Hermione had told her she was interested in studying. This wasn't a strange request from the Gryffindor. She had been taking university courses in Spell Making for the past two years, which was arranged by Albus and often asked teachers and staff for spells to dissect. She had quite an aptitude for spell enhancement and development. Actually, this was the capacity Albus intended to use her for. Anyway, Hermione had taken the patch and the spell info and left. She read the instructions and applied the protective charm. Apparently it worked.

Hermione added the two vials of replenishing potion to the tub and slowly sunk down into the warm, scented water. She could feel the potion invigorating her and sighed with relief as the last of her aches faded away. She washed quickly, and exited the tub. She felt as if she hadn't eaten for weeks and breakfast sounded pretty good. Now all outward traces of Snape were washed from her. The soreness inside was diminished greatly. There was a little sting, but Hermione could deal with that. Actually, it comforted her in a strange way. It was proof that last night really did happen. She caught a look at herself in the mirror and was glad she did. Though the pain was gone, there were several finger-shaped bruises circling her neck, bluish-purple testaments of Professor Snape's violent need for compliance. Hermione applied a glamour spell, covering the bruises. As she dressed she idly wondered how the Potions Master made it through class every day without strangling or injuring anyone. His temper was horrible. She guessed he was capable of restraint in certain situations. Situations where there would be witnesses anyway.

Her mind went back to the night before, when the Headmaster called the Potions Master to the floo. Though she wasn't fully in control of her senses at the time, she had heard everything. Now that she had a chance to consider the exchange between the two wizards, it seemed very cold of the Headmaster to give Snape misinformation to give to Voldemort that would result in him getting severely punished. The Headmaster sounded dismissive of the Potions Master's claim to be at risk. The Headmaster knew how bad Snape's punishments were. He and she had witnessed the Professor's return to Hogwarts a shuddering, seizuring, vomiting mass of pain on a number of occasions. She was rather surprised that Albus evidenced no desire to alleviate the possibility of punishment. The Headmaster could easily set up a false front to cover the plan so it looked as if there really was a transport. It wouldn't be difficult. Order members could play the roles. It was almost as if the Headmaster wanted his spy to suffer at the hands of the Dark Lord.

This thought led to another, more disturbing one. The statement the Professor had said about the Headmaster not allowing her to change any of his plans for her. She thought at first that the Professor was trying to unsettle her, get into her head and play a mind game. But after she witnessed the Headmaster's callousness to his one and only spy's welfare, she thought that maybe Snape wasn't exaggerating the situation. Over the years, Hermione had wanted to take classes that she was interested in, only to have McGonagal talk her out of them and redirect her to other classes 'more suited to her future'. There had also been seminars she wanted to attend that she couldn't because something else 'important' came up, like suddenly having to chaperone first year field trips. There had been a lecture series she was very interested in, called "The Faces of Good and Evil: Is There a Difference?" that touched on how good and evil worked to reach their aims. She had been assigned some extra duties by Dumbledore himself that made it impossible for her to attend.

Hermione was getting a rather cold feeling in her belly, almost the opposite of yesterday of the warm, achy yearning she felt when she was waiting to see the Potions Master. It made her feel a bit angry. She left Gryffindor tower and headed for the Great Hall, unable to shake that feeling of coldness inside her.

It was fairly early when she arrived at breakfast. There were few students there. Her stomach did a little flip when she looked up at the Head table and met the dark eyes of the Potions Master. His eyes flicked over her, then returned to his meal. Dumbledore was also at the table. He was looking at her, his blue eyes raking over her, a slight frown on his face. Hermione colored. The Headmaster knew she had been with the Potions Master, and what she had done with him. Well, she was of the age of consent, there was really nothing the wizard could do. What was done, was done. She sat down to the table, and proceeded to pull every platter she could within reach and piled her plate high with food. She tucked in.

Snape watched the young witch eat with a slightly amused look on his face. He had a hearty appetite too this morning, but it was funny to see such a small witch with such a huge plate of food in front of her. She ate every bit of it too. She looked no worse for wear. She must have found some way to fix herself up this morning. Even he had to take a draught to ease his sore muscles. The staff door opened and Madam Pomfrey walked in. The medi-witch stopped beside him.

"I hope you aren't too hard on Miss Granger, Professor," the medi-witch said to him.

The Potions Master started.

"What?" he asked, scowling at the medi-witch, wondering how much she knew.

"For forgetting your supplies yesterday. She wrote a list of the potions you needed for your stores this morning, saying she forgot to retrieve them for you yesterday. A house elf collected them and she should be restocking your stores shortly. The girl has a lot on her mind, Professor, not to mention countless responsibilities. She is entitled to make a mistake once in a while," Poppy said, giving him an imploring look.

Hermione had stopped drinking her pumpkin juice and was looking with horror at Madame Pomfrey speaking to the Potions Master, who had a scowl on his face. Suddenly his black eyes shifted to her as the medi-witch continued talking. Uh oh, she was busted.

Poppy stood by the Potions Master, nervously clasping her hands, obviously distressed about how he would treat Hermione for her lapse. The Potions Master looked up at the medi-witch.

"She can restock today. It wasn't a pressing issue in any case, Poppy," he replied smoothly.

The medi-witch sighed with relief. She noticed Hermione staring up at her with a worried look on her face, and smiled at the young witch, giving her the thumbs up sign…unaware of the Potions Master's narrowed gaze he was giving the witch. Snape turned to the medi-witch again.

"Ah, do you remember exactly what potions she requested? I was quite distracted when I gave her the list," he asked.

"Certainly," Poppy said, rattling of the list of potions Hermione had requested. When she finished, Poppy bid Snape a good day and continued on to her breakfast.

He leveled his eyes at Hermione, who sunk down on the bench a bit. So. No wonder she was in such good shape. She falsely requisitioned healing supplies in his name. This was an expellable offense. She had used her good standing at Hogwarts to break not one, but several rules and get what she needed. If Poppy hadn't been such a chatterbox, he would have never known. Quite a Slytherin-like act on the part of the Gryffindor. He approved, though he would take her to task for it. She had gotten caught after all. When you do wrong, it's of no consequence if you don't do it successfully. He also had some leverage over her now. He would keep it filed away in case he needed to blackmail her for some reason. He knew that Dumbledore would keep her from getting expelled if he did report her, but she didn't know that. Much better to tuck it away.

He looked at her appraisingly. He wondered if she would have done such a thing before he popped her cherry? Use the trust of others to manipulate them. Hm. Maybe Miss Granger had even darker tendencies than he realized. He watched as she rose from the table and exited the Great Hall. He sat there a moment. Then rose and left quickly through the staff door.

Albus watched them both go, his blue eyes dark behind his half-moon spectacles. He wasn't liking this. Not one bit.

* * *

Hermione walked quickly through the Main Hall, not knowing where she was going to go, but knew she needed to lie low for a bit. Poppy had certainly told the Professor about the potions she had requested in his name. She'd have to see him in class, but there others would be present. She just didn't want to face him alone. She headed for the main doors, figuring she'd loiter outside for a bit. The Professor rarely went outside.

She had just placed her hand on the door to push it open when a familiar silky voice called out,

"Miss Granger, I would like a word with you."

Hermione's heart dropped to her stomach. She turned around to see the Potions Master gliding toward her, a scowl on his pale face. She stood there, waiting for the storm to break, wondering if he would put his hands on her.

Snape walked up to the witch, and stood closer than necessary to intimidate her, and possibly bring to mind his much closer positions of the night before. She looked up at him with wide, scared eyes.

"You are looking quite fit this morning, Miss Granger. Quite fit," he said in a low voice.

"That's because recently I had a good workout, Professor," Hermione replied, deciding in an instant not to let him cow her. Her eyes narrowed defiantly. She wasn't in his study now. He didn't have any power over her. She straightened and her chin set.

"I don't think it was the 'workout' that has you so fit, Miss Granger. I think it is the cure for the workout that has you in such good shape. A cure you illegally requisitioned in my name. Each potion you received is an expellable offense, Miss Granger. And you took several," he said, his eyes glittering at her.

"You had quite a bit to do with my need for those potions, Professor. It was only right that I acquired them in your name," Hermione retorted. "You didn't expect me to totter around the castle today like a bow-legged old woman did you?"

The Potions Master fought back a smirk. Reverse justification for an obviously wrong act. She was turning it around on him. Nice.

"I can have you expelled," he said quietly, waiting for the explosion of pleading to come. It didn't. The witch suddenly pushed past him, and whirled on him, her eyes flashing.

"Go ahead! Get me expelled! You'll probably be doing me a fucking favor!" she spat, storming off up the main stairs and toward Gryffindor Tower without a single glance back.

The Potions Master just blinked after her, not moving. Where the hell had that come from? Plus, she actually cursed when talking to a teacher, not to mention walked away from one before being dismissed.

Damn. He really had turned her out.

The Professor turned and walked slowly toward the dungeons. He never dreamed he'd hear Hermione Granger say, "Expel me." Not the brightest star of Hogwarts. She sounded like she thought that might be a good thing. Hm. He glided down the dungeon corridor, unaware that a disillusioned Albus had witnessed their exchange.

The Headmaster had left the Great Hall right behind the Potions Master, casting the semi-invisibility charm wandlessly on himself, and followed him. He had been within hearing distance of their exchange, and was shocked at Miss Granger's response that he might be doing her a favor getting her thrown out of Hogwarts. This was not good. Miss Granger was starting to rebel. He knew the signs. He had invested too much in the young witch to have her bail out now. Her Spell Making skills were already formidable.

The Headmaster had been following her progress closely and the university was quite impressed with her, stating she could be the youngest and most powerful Spells Mistress in the history of the wizarding world and even showed signs that she could be a Primordial, once she reached maturity. This information Albus quickly hushed up. His methods of doing so were less than savory, but required. An obliviate here, an accidental death there and Hermione's secret was safe. Even from her.

There were only a handful of Spell Masters and Mistress, but there hadn't been a Primordial for over twelve hundred years. Primordials were wizards or witches that served as conduits for all magical forces, and could gather, manipulate and direct those forces any way they liked using only the force of their wills. Which meant that one day Hermione would, if she were indeed a Primordial, be able to simply think what she wanted accomplished and magic would obey her. She would need neither charm nor spell or wand. Which would also make her the most powerful magical being in existence. If Albus controlled Hermione, he would control the not only the wizarding world but all worlds.

Dumbledore had not revealed this possible ability to Hermione, allowing her to think it was her mind that made her valuable, and it was in part. Her brilliant mind coupled with her increasing magical abilities, gave her, and not Potter the greatest chance of destroying Voldemort. While the Dark Lord focused on killing The-Boy-Who-Lived, Dumbledore nurtured his real nemesis without disruption. When Voldemort was out of the way, the Headmaster could pursue his own ends, using Hermione to reach them. It had all been going so well. Until now.

Albus cursed under his breath. He knew Snape would pollute her, damn him. By having sex with the young witch, and taking away her innocence, Snape probably hastened her evolution into the mature stage that would trigger her Primordial powers, if she truly had them. And she wasn't properly conditioned yet. Damn him! Albus would have to get the young woman's mind back on track somehow. He would call her in for a little talk this afternoon, and get her grounded again while warning her off Snape.

The Headmaster scowled in the direction Snape had taken. The Potions Master was valuable, but he'd better watch his step. He knew better than most that sometimes sacrifices had to be made for the 'greater good."

* * *

Hermione stormed into the common room. Harry and Ron were there, sitting on one of the comfy sofas, and polishing their brooms. Which they shouldn't have been doing. They looked up at Hermione and smiled. Their smiles faltered when they saw the dark look on her face.

"Hey Mione, you all right there?" Harry asked, putting down his broom, rising from the sofa and crossing the room to face his friend. "You look as if you're ready to cast the Killing Curse."

Hermione looked into Harry's concerned green eyes, and let out a sigh.

"I'm all right Harry, just a little stressed," Hermione replied, giving him a small smile.

"Mione, if you're stressed, there's a great way I know of to relieve that, you know," Ron said, waggling his red eyebrows suggestively, "I'd be willing to help you out. You know, being friends and all." He gave her a goofy grin.

Ron still had a slight crush on Hermione, though he was regularly shagging Padma Patil, his current witch-at-arms. Hermione looked at Ron, her amber eyes slightly frigid. Ron quailed at the look she gave him. He had no idea what she'd been through the night before, or with whom.

"Just joking," Ron said lamely, "Thought a laugh would cheer you up, is all."

Hermione sighed again. "I'm just not in a laughing mood, Ron," she said to the red-haired wizard. She looked at the broom polishing kits on the floor in front of the couch.

"You know you aren't supposed to be doing that in the common room," she said, hating she had to be the one to make them follow rules. Who really cared where they polished their brooms as long as they didn't make a mess?

Both wizards looked at her, then began to gather up the kits.

"Sorry, Head Girl," Ron said sullenly.

Hermione glowered at him.

"You know Ron, I wouldn't have to nag at you if you just followed the rules in the first place," she said tightly.

"Hermione, you like bossing us around and you know it," Ron retorted, "you like the power. Admit it. Everybody has to listen to you and you love it."

Hermione's fists clenched and her face flushed with rage. Harry blinked at her.

"Calm down, Hermione. You look like you're going to explode," he said, a worried look in his eyes.

"I've been around you for seven years, Ron, and you don't even know me!" she exclaimed, bursting into tears and running up the stairs. Harry went to follow her, forgetting the staircase's nature. He almost made it to the top when the stairs went flat, and he slid unceremoniously down the slope and across the common room floor on his belly.

"Shit," he said, getting up and brushing off his robes, looking at the stairwell and up to where Hermione had disappeared around the corner. He turned on Ron.

"Why do you have to aggravate her so much, Ron? You know how much stress she's under," Harry said as he glared at his friend.

"I was just being honest, Harry. She's like a little, what's that muggle's name?…a little Hitler. She rules with an iron wand," Ron replied, "If you can't be honest with your friends, who can you be honest with?"

Harry glowered at him.

"You could have chosen a better time to be honest. You saw she was already upset. We didn't even find out why," he said, sitting back down on the couch and taking out his polish again. He opened it, and looked at it strangely.

"Hey, what's wrong with my polish?" he asked, tilting the little tin can. The polish had dried out shrunk and was hard as stone.

"Looks like it dried out," Ron said, examining it. He opened his own can. His polish was the same way.

"Blimey!" he said, shaking the shrunken block of polish around in the tin.

This was really, really strange.

* * *

Hermione wrestled with her bedroom door, wrenching at it wildly until she remembered it was warded. She was about to pull out her wand when suddenly the door clicked and slowly swung open. Hermione looked at the open portal a moment, then rushed into her room and flung herself on the bed, still sobbing. Ron was such an asshole. What made it worse was he was supposed to be her friend, and even he saw her as someone who enjoyed lording power over others. He couldn't see she was put in this position and was simply trying to live up to the responsibility she'd been saddled with. She wasn't the one in power here, it was those who assigned her these duties who held the true power.

The witch sat up on the side of her bed and wiped her eyes, sniffling. Crying like a baby wouldn't help her situation any.

Suddenly Hermione felt a strange shifting sensation, and became disoriented. The room began to spin and her limbs became heavy as stones. The witch fell back on the bed, her eyes rolling up into her head as the sound of a rushing, thunderous wind surrounded her. Suddenly all went silent.

Hermione was floating in darkness, rocking gently as if she were drifting in water. Slowly an image formed in her mind. She saw herself against a backdrop of Hogwarts, dressed in her Gryffindor robes. There were numerous strings tied to he wrists and ankles, and she was being bounced helplessly around the landscape. She had no power of movement of her own, her arms and legs useless beneath the bindings around them.

She looked up, following the strings to their point of origin and saw her surroundings were false, she was on some kind of set. Above her was a vast opening and huge faces were looking down at her, twisted and dark. She had to peer hard to make out their features, and saw they were visages of all her teachers, and the Headmaster.

His blue eyes were terrible as they looked down on her, filled with a maniacal hunger, fire dancing across the sickle-shaped half-moon glasses. His mouth was crooked cruelly. Next to him, McGonagal gazed down at her with glowing cat's eyes. Madam Sprout held her strings tightly in gnarled, limb-like fingers. Even Professor Flitwick looked like a small demon, his eyes narrowed, sparse white hair curled into devilish peaks, his small, moist lips turned up in a snarl. Every teacher that ever taught her was there, pulling on her strings. All except one. Professor Snape. He was nowhere to be seen.

Puppet-Hermione began find strength in her limbs, and struggled against the strings. The more she struggled, the harder she was bounced around, the teachers pulling on her bindings savagely in an effort to control her. Then the strings turned to chains and she was manacled to them. The links clanked and rang metallically together as the teachers pulled her higher and higher, letting her drop further and further.

Her bones began to pop out of their sockets, cracking and breaking, her head flopping about uncontrollably, blood seeping through her garments, staining her robes. And still they bounced her about, jerking and wrenching her until her body gave out and she was literally torn to pieces, her body parts dripping crimson, twirling slowly in their metal bonds.

Hermione gasped and sat up in her bed quickly, feeling herself all over and shuddering at the awful vision. She was covered in perspiration and her hands were shaking badly. She hugged herself tightly, reassuring herself she was still in one piece. What a horrible vision. Still shaking, she rose from her bed and walked into the bathroom to the basin, where she turned on the cold-water spigot and splashed the frigid water on her face several times. Gasping from the chill liquid, she raised her head and looked at herself in the mirror. Haunted amber eyes set in a pale face looked back at her. She stared at herself for a moment as if looking at a stranger, someone she didn't recognize.

_**You've been bent to the wheel without your conscious knowledge. Your whole life in the magical world has been one long march to servitude. Once you are in, the Order will never let you go, Miss Granger. Dumbledore will never let you go. **_

Professor Snape's words came back to her, a warning before he bent her to his own wheel with her full consciousness, then let her go.

Hermione stared at her reflected image a little longer, Snape's silken words threading through her head over and over. She thought back to what she had learned during her short time in Trelawney's wooly Divination class. She had not been asleep, so she didn't have a dream. She had a vision. It was a straightforward vision as well, the meaning not hidden in deep symbolism. To interpret it, she merely had to amplify what happened in it. She was in a false surrounding, a built set, a construction. A setting someone had made. Created to surround her so she couldn't see what lay behind it. Her teachers were holding strings attached to her, and she was unable to move on her own. They made her bounce, jump from here to there. That would be their guidance. The strings were their guidance. So she was being controlled by the guidance of others in this false setting, a Hogwarts that wasn't what it seemed. When she gained the power to move on her own, the manipulations became more controlling, evidenced by the strings changing to chains. As she became older, more stringent responsibilities had been placed on her, responsibilities she was obligated to fulfill. The chains.

In the vision, when she struggled against the chains, or rebelled, the control became more brutal, causing her pain. Causing her to break. Those who manipulated her ultimately destroyed her rather than let her move on her own. According to the vision, the ones controlling her were her teachers and Dumbledore. According to the vision, if she rebelled against the guidance she was receiving she would be destroyed in some way.

Hermione pushed herself away from the sink, and walked back into her bedroom, looking at the clock. It was almost time for Potions class. Professor Snape was the last thing on her mind as she gathered her books together. The dark wizard had been superseded by the vision she received. There were things she had to find out, and soon.

She pushed her books into her backpack, closed it and slipped it over one shoulder. She exited her bedroom and slowly walked down the steps to the common room. It was empty. Ron and Harry must have gone to class. She walked toward the common room entrance when there was a great whooshing noise behind her. She turned around to see the head of Albus Dumbledore in the floo.

"Miss Granger, I was hoping to catch you," the Headmaster said pleasantly, "I would like to see you in my office this afternoon about threeish, to discuss some things."

Hermione stared at the Headmaster, not speaking and not realizing she was staring as the image of her vision super-imposed itself over his smiling features, and he became dark and evil.

"Miss Granger? Miss Granger! Are you all right my dear?" Albus said worriedly.

Hermione snapped out of it as the Headmaster's face returned to normal.

"I'm sorry Headmaster. I just zoned out for a second there. Three o'clock you said?" Hermione responded, trying hard not to show a reaction to what she had just seen.

"Yes, at three," the Headmaster confirmed.

"I'll be there, sir," Hermione said, "But now I have to go or I'll be late for Potions."

The Headmaster's eyes darkened at the mention of the Potions class for a moment, then cleared. Albus smiled at her brightly.

"All right my dear. I will see you this afternoon," he said. Then his head disappeared out of the floo.

Hermione let out a deep breath. The super-imposed image over the Headmaster's face had been frightening. What was going on?

_**If you don't believe me, when you leave here, test it. Disagree with one of Albus' many plans for you. **_

Again, the Professor's words came back to her. She was starting to half believe him, evil as he was. Hermione decided she was going to test the Headmaster and see if he would balk at any changes she wanted to make. There was one change in plans she had been considering making right after graduation. She would put that on the table when she went to see him. His reaction would let her know how close to the truth her vision was. After all, what she experieced could be a psychological reaction to Snape's words and not a true vision at all. Well, she would find out this afternoon.

Hermione hurried out of the common room. She had only ten minutes to get to Potions class.

* * *

Hermione walked into the Potions class exactly one minute late. The Professor had been browbeating the students for dismal marks on the last assignment when she entered. He fell silent and scowled as she walked up the aisle, sidled through the chairs and sat in her normal seat. She made quite a bit of noise slinging her backpack down and taking out her books. She was so preoccupied she wasn't aware of the Potions Master staring at her blackly as she settled in. Finally she folded her hands and looked at him expectantly, then realized he had been staring at her silently since she entered the class. The other students all grimaced, waiting for the Professor to light into her.

"Are you settled in now, Miss Granger?" the Potions Master said evenly.

"Yes sir," Hermione responded in a small, embarrassed voice.

The Potions Master arched an eyebrow at her.

"You were late, Miss Granger. Not only were you late, but you also disrupted my discourse on the usual inadequacy of the latest marks earned by this group I loosely call students. Twenty-five points from Gryffindor," he said.

"Whatever," Hermione snorted under her breath.

The Potions Master's brow furrowed.

"And another ten points for muttering," he added.

Hermione's housemates groaned as Hermione looked at the Potions Master mutinously. But she didn't say anything.

The Professor continued his tirade against his pupils for another ten minutes until he had them all, with the exception of Hermione, squirming in their seats. He gave them a reading assignment to once again review information they had previously studied. They had to write a summation at the end of one meter. Pages rustled as the students got down to work. The Potions Master returned to his seat. With hooded eyes he watched Hermione reading rapidly, her amber eyes scanning the pages left to right. Finally he spoke to her.

"Miss Granger, a word at my desk," he said.

Hermione looked up at him, sighed and stood up, sidling past the empty chairs and approaching his desk.

"Your behavior after breakfast this morning was entirely unacceptable. You used profanity when speaking to a teacher, and stormed off without being dismissed. You will serve three days detention…"

Here Hermione's eyes widened as she looked at the Potions Master. He was crazy if he thought she would return to his clutches. She still ached as it was.

"…with Argus Filch," he concluded, his black eyes meeting hers. He could see she thought she would be serving it with him. He could also see that she had no intention on serving it with him if he had assigned it. He had no doubt she would have taken the write-ups. She was acting completely out of character.

"Yes sir,' Hermione replied, clearly relieved to be assigned to Filch. He would probably have something disgusting for her to clean, but at least she would leave the caretaker's presence walking normally.

"As for your other violation," Snape continued, "we will settle that at another time. Return to your seat."

Hermione walked back to her seat and sat down, amazed that the Professor didn't press the issue of the illegally acquired potions. He probably intended to hold it over her head. Well, she didn't care. She wasn't going to let him manipulate her. She returned to reading.

The Potions Master pretended to read over a few parchments on his desk, but he studied the young witch. She had a defiant set to her jaw. He could see that she was determined not to let him get under her skin. She didn't appear the slightest bit concerned about the potions incident. It was as if she just didn't care. He looked at the stubborn set of her face again thoughtfully.

He had expected some residual submissiveness on her part after last night. He had been her first after all and had really laid pipe to her. He had locked her body down and rode her for all he was worth, placing her limbs in holds that rivaled any muggle-wrestling move. She had been under his complete control, subjected to his every whim. Yet she faced him without the slightest bit of deference when he confronted her today.

She also evidenced none of the usual uncomfortable reactions of a woman that's been ravished by a man who cast her aside afterwards. There was a slight flush this morning at breakfast, but that had been it. Suddenly the Professor felt he hadn't been rough enough. But he had been. The only other thing he could have done to brutalize her further was beat her. Was it possible that underneath all that Gryffindorness, Miss Granger was as callous as he was? Had she used him every bit as much as he had used her? She had been reamed soundly, had multiple orgasms and afterwards, stolen potions in his name using his treatment of her as justification. All in all, she had got what she wanted. And then some.

Snape had a feeling if the sorting hat were placed on Miss Granger's curly head today, she would definitely be sorted into Slytherin House. She wouldn't be a bad addition either. He smirked as he thought about how Albus would take Miss Granger's shift in attitude if she made it known. The old coot favored Gryffindor house, despite being the complete opposite of what it stood for. He would hate to see Miss Granger displaying Slytherin traits. Of course he would blame Snape, but the fact was he couldn't make Miss Granger turn dark. It had to already be there, beneath the surface. If anyone were responsible, it was Albus himself. His manipulations had made the witch deny parts of herself that if had been allowed to come to the surface, would have worked themselves out. As it stood, an ocean of resentment probably seethed under the surface of Miss Granger's apparent dedication to duty.

If the young woman discovered for certain how the Headmaster had manipulated her, then her anger would make her rebel against him, and all that resentment would come pouring out to make itself known in many nasty ways. If Miss Granger weren't dark…she would become that way and quickly. Nothing changes a person more than to discover the things they believed in were all lies, and the people they trusted were not worthy of trust. She would turn away from everything Albus had groomed her for and begin to live her own life with a hunger to acquire the things and experiences previously denied her, everybody else be damned. She'd become Slytherin through and through, susceptible to the lure of using evil tactics to acquire what she felt good for her own well-being. How Snape would LOVE to see that happen. It would be a more honest, satisfactory life for the witch than the one she was living now, and the one Albus had planned for her. It had the added appeal of driving the Headmaster wild.

Hm. Not that driving Albus wild was a good thing. Miss Granger could find herself locked in a small room someplace, forced to work for the Order anyway, with a cover story of having been abducted or killed by deatheaters. Albus wasn't beyond imprisonment if it would get him what he wanted.

Hermione's amber eyes flicked up at the Potions Master for a moment. He met them evenly before they dropped back to the book. There had been nothing in her gaze. She had just looked up from her text for a moment. The Potions Master watched as she unrolled her parchment and began to write quickly. His eyes swept around the room. The other students began writing as well, intense looks of concentration on their faces. He knew most of the summaries would be suitable for wiping his ass with, but he still had to mark them anyway.

Soon the students were bringing their parchments up with apprehensive looks on their faces. A small pile of summaries sat on the edge of his desk. Miss Granger had been the first to give him her parchment, as usual. He rewarded her with a scowl.

Soon it was time for class to let out. He called Hermione to him again. The witch actually had the audacity to sigh in exasperation as she approached him again. He took out a quill and a piece of parchment.

"I want you to present this parchment to Filch when you serve detention. It is a suggested list of chores to do," he said smoothly, dipping his quill in the small bottle of ink on his desk.

Hermione frowned.

"But Filch gives out his own punishments," she said, agitated.

"Yes, I know. But you're a special case. I just want to make sure the chores are, shall we say, challenging enough." The Professor smirked as he put the quill to the parchment. Hermione had a black look on her face.

He made a few scratches, then looked down at his quill. It wasn't writing. He must not have put enough ink on it. He dipped it into the bottle again. It came up dry.

He picked up the inkbottle and shook it. Something rattled inside. He turned it over and shook it over his pale palm. Some crumbly bits of dried ink dropped out.

"Hm. That was a new bottle," he said to himself.

Hermione stood there with her arms folded, wishing the Potions Master would hurry up. Snape reached in his drawer and retrieved another bottle of ink. He shook it and a liquid sound came from the bottle. He opened it and set it down. He dipped his quill in it and applied it to the paper. A thin black line started, then petered out. The Potions Master looked at the quill.

Hermione sighed loudly. He looked up at her sharply, and she shifted her eyes away.

Snape dipped his quill into the inkbottle, and again it came up dry. He picked up the bottle and shook it. It rattled. Something hard was inside. He tilted it and again small crumbles of dried ink fell out on to his desk. He looked up at Hermione, who was slouched in a sullen position now, looking impatient. Snape looked at the inkbottle, puzzled, bringing it close to his ear and shaking it. He looked up at Hermione.

"Just go, Miss Granger. I will finish the list and send it to Filch myself. Five points from Gryffindor," he said dismissively.

"What for!" Hermione said.

"Being impatient," Snape replied, still shaking the inkbottle against his ear.

"Ooh!" Hermione breathed, stalking from the Potions Master's desk, grabbing her backpack and storming out of the door.

Snape took the inkbottle down from his ear. He shook out a little more dried ink on his desk and studied it.

"Extraordinary," he said.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading. More to come. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Inside the Blackest Heart Part 5**

"The bastard!" Hermione growled as she headed up the dungeon corridor. It was obvious that the Professor was completely unaffected by their interlude, and would treat her as unfairly as ever. There was actually a bit of comfort in this knowledge, though Hermione was too pissed at the Potions Master to consider her feelings about it. Imagine, giving Filch more ideas on how to make her detention even more miserable. She was glad he wasn't able to write the list, though it had been rather strange how his quill and ink kept drying out. The ink probably came from a bad batch that reacted to the open air.

She turned into the main hall and headed for lunch in the Great Hall. She was still very hungry. It seemed her appetite had increased three-fold overnight. As she was walking, someone suddenly bumped into her, staggering her sideways.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Hermione," said a rather dreamy voice, "I didn't see you."

Hermione righted herself and looked into the protuberant eyes of Luna Lovegood, who had a magazine in her hand, turned upside-down. She had been walking and reading, bumping into people the entire way and not registering it at all. Luna brushed her dirty-blonde hair out of her face and looked calmly but intently at Hermione.

"Oh, that's okay Luna," Hermione replied, straightening her backpack and starting off again, Luna at her side.

"I'm reading a really interesting article about Crumple-horned Snorkacks. It says one's been spotted in the Carpathian Mountains. They almost caught it, but it tore through the magical nets."

"That's really interesting, Luna," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. Luna had a Snorkack fixation for as long as Hermione could remember. Crumple-horned Snorkacks were the wizarding equivalent of the muggle Bigfoot, often seen running through forests and mountainsides, but never caught. Luna was fascinated with the creatures, even accompanying her father on an expedition in search of the elusive, if not mythical creatures in the snow-covered Alps. They didn't catch any but "they came close" according to Luna.

Luna looked at Hermione intently, her face turned toward the witch as they walked. This resulted in Luna bumping into several students, but again, it didn't register.

"You know, it's funny how people change," Luna said dreamily, "they're one way all their lives, then suddenly something happens, and they're just…different."

Hermione looked at the witch and stopped walking.

"What are you talking about Luna?" she asked her.

The blonde witch raised her faint eyebrows.

"I'm just saying that we all change, Hermione. Some more than others. Some for the good and some for the bad. But you know, we need both good and bad to get by. They're only degrees of each other, after all. Sometimes, they're even the same. Gotta go. 'Bye " the strange witch said, drifting off into the stream of passing students and disappearing like a wraith.

Hermione looked after Luna, blinking. She certainly was an odd duck. How could good and evil be the same? The Ravenclaw certainly had some radical ideas. Hermione pressed on toward the Great Hall.

Ron and Harry were already at the table. She slipped in between them, and reached for a platter of sweet rolls. Both young wizards looked at her. Ron was scowling.

"Hermione," he asked her with a frown on his face, "Did you spell our polish?"

Hermione had bitten into her sweet roll.

"Wha?" she said around it.

"Did you spell our polish so it dried out? Harry and I opened our tins after you left and the polish was all dried out. Hard as a rock," he said, "You had just finished chewing us out about polishing our brooms in the common room…"

"Ronald Weasley. I didn't spell your polish. I didn't even have my wand out!" Hermione said indignantly.

Harry ducked his head. He had told Ron not to say anything about the polish. He was such a pig-headed prat sometimes. Now he was going to get Hermione started again.

"Well, something happened to it. And you were the one who didn't want us using it," Ron continued, trying to force a confession out of the witch.

Hermione's face went black. She watched as Ron selected a big jelly-filled donut.

"I didn't do anything to your stupid polish, Ron!" she spat.

Ron's brows dropped and he was about to say something else to her when his donut exploded, covering him in gooey jelly. Not a drop got on Hermione.

The entire hall burst into laughter as Ron spluttered, his face splattered with red, dripping goo. It had even shot up his nose, and he snorted, the jelly shooting out. His shoulders shaking, Harry passed Ron several napkins. Hermione was laughing hysterically.

"You did this!" Ron shouted at Hermione, wiping his face with the napkins. "I don't know how but I know it was you! And you spelled the polish too!"

Hermione stopped laughing.

"Ron, you are a fucking idiot," she said. The witch gathered up several ham sandwiches and wrapped them in napkins, then hoisted her backpack on her shoulder and rose. She glowered down at Ron, who was having some problems cleaning off the jelly. The napkins were sticking to the mess and tearing off in little pieces, adding more bulk and color to the mess on his face. Hermione pulled out her wand.

"Scourgify," she said, flicking it at Ron and cleaning him up.

"I'm leaving," she announced. "If you don't believe me Ron, fine. But I didn't do anything to that donut or your polish. I need a wand to work magic. Wandless magic doesn't work for me. I've been trying for years."

Ron looked at her skeptically. Hermione sighed and put her watch down. She looked at the plate of jelly donuts.

"Fine. Watch," she said.

Hermione thrust her hand out.

"Reducto!" she cried. The donuts wiggled a little

"See! See! They moved!" Ron cried out triumphantly, "You can do wandless magic!"

Everyone in the Great Hall was looking at Hermione. Including Dumbledore and Snape.

"That was hardly magic, Ron. Someone could have kicked the table or something. I didn't cast a "donut wiggling" spell. They should have exploded, and they didn't," she said, picking up her wand. She was shaken, but she didn't want it to show. The donuts had moved. Even if they didn't do what she wanted, there was some reaction.

"That was magic all right," Ron said, looking at her accusingly, "You probably held back or something."

Suddenly, something in Hermione seemed to snap.

"You're an ass, Ron!" she yelled at him, turning and running out of the hall. Harry rose to go after her, and Ron caught his arm.

"Let her go, Harry she..e..e.eeeeee AWWWW!" Ron brayed. Harry looked down at him in shock.

Ron's head was elongating and turning gray, while his ears were lengthening growing straight up and becoming furry. In a moment, Ron had a full-fledged donkey's head sitting on his shoulders, with a small tuft of red mane on the top.

The Great Hall came apart with hysterical laughter. Students were rolling and falling off the benches, wracked by mirth. A few of the staff members held back, their lips thin with restrained laughter. Only Dumbledore and Snape weren't exhibiting any signs of laughter. While everyone else was laughing at Ron's state, they both realized that Hermione had changed the wizard, and hadn't used a wand or even wandless magic. She simply made a statement and left. Then the young wizard had the head of an ass, just as she had pronounced. She wasn't even aware she had done it.

Dumbledore looked worried. Very worried. This was not good.

Snape on the other hand was very glad she hadn't evidenced this power last night. He could have been in a very bad way. He thought back to the Potions class, when he couldn't write the list for Filch.

"She did that. Not consciously, but she didn't want me to write that list," he thought. He suddenly looked down the table at Dumbledore, who was gazing at the doors Hermione had departed from with a dark look on his face.

In an instant, Snape knew Albus knew. The old bastard knew Miss Granger had this kind of power in her all along. That's what the Headmaster was really after, controlling her power. But what kind of magic worked like this? Without a wand, without the use of hands? Without a spell for gods sake? If Miss Granger could work magic without the necessity of spells…

The Potions Master felt woozy. He had just brutally deflowered a young woman who was most likely the most powerful witch in existence. A witch with the potential to be more powerful than Voldemort and Dumbledore combined. A witch who could bend magic to her will. Shit!

He had to find out more about this. He rose from the table and glided out the staff exit, heading for the library. He needed to talk to Madam Pince.

* * *

"Wandless magic, Professor?" Madam Pince asked the Potions Master, looking over her glasses at him with interest. She knew he had quite a formidable library of his own. He rarely utilized hers. 

"No Madam," he replied impatiently, "I want to know if there were any instances of witches or wizards that could perform Spell-less magic."

"Ah," said Madam Pince, "Spell-less magic. Yes, I do have a very old book that broaches that subject."

Snape followed Madam Pince to a glass cabinet that contained one large and very old text. The librarian made a number of intricate motions over the glass case, and it unlocked. She opened it and reverently lifted the tome out, cradling it in her arms as if it were a baby. She carried it over to a table, and set it down gently. Snape pulled out the chair and sat in it, pulling up close to the book.

"Be careful how you open it and turn the pages. It is very old, and VERY delicate," Madam Pince chided, hovering over the Potions Master. He turned and gave her a scowl so black, she turned completely white.

"I'll leave you to it then, Professor," she said hastily, and retreated to her counter. She still watched him closely however.

The Professor carefully opened the book and leafed through it. It contained a lot of information on the theory of Magic and its uses throughout the ages. It also listed different kinds of magical beings. In the human section it listed, witch, warlock, sorcerer, sorceress, enchanter, enchantress, magician and so forth, with definitions of what their powers were. His eyes fell on a term he wasn't familiar with. Primordial.

The Professor read voraciously, his eyes widening. A Primordial was a witch or wizard, most often a witch who could channel raw magic and bend it to her will without wands, charms or spells. They were a direct conduit to original magic or the magic of creation. Primordials were extremely rare, and in most cases were unaware of and unable to use their powers until they came into full maturity or adulthood. The last recorded Primordial was Lilith Oftgood, who lived over twelve hundred years ago, and ruled a great portion of the world for over two hundred years. She had quashed opposing forces battling for dominance, and ruled with a velvet-covered iron hand. During her reign there were no wars or power struggles. People lived a life of peace and prosperity that had never been equaled since.

Snape took out his wand and duplicated the passage. He folded it up, and stuck it in his robes pocket. Feeling rather stunned, he closed the book.

If Miss Granger were indeed a Primordial, she could be the one to stop all this madness permanently. Both Voldemort and Albus could be taken out of the equation. And he could be free of the both of them, forever.

The Potions Master left the library hurriedly. He wasn't sure what to do, but he needed to talk to Miss Granger, show her what he'd found. He was absolutely sure she wasn't aware of what was happening to her.

_Primordials are extremely rare, and in most cases unaware of and unable to use their powers until they come into full maturity or adulthood. _

Snape paused as the passage went through his mind. He paled.

Shit. He was the one who had awakened her powers. She had become a woman overnight. He had taken every bit of her innocence. He had sped up the process.

He had to find her.

* * *

Dumbledore returned to his office. Fawkes sat sullenly on her perch, whirling her eyes at him. She was a loyal Phoenix, bonded to her Master until his death, at which point she would follow him, never to emerge from the ashes again. But the great bird was unhappy. Dumbledore had changed, become dark, seduced by power. She rarely sang anymore. 

The Headmaster rapidly searched through his drawer for the Marauder's map. Finding it, he swiftly unfolded the parchment. It was blank.

"I solemnly swear I am up to no good," the Headmaster intoned. Small labeled footsteps appeared on the page. He studied it intently, searching for Hermione. He found her, sitting in a small niche outside the castle. Evidently she felt the need to get away from everyone. He sighed. She hadn't seen what she did to Ron.

The Headmaster had done a bit of damage control in the Great Hall immediately. He had made the students quiet down as Ron was taken to the infirmary by Professors Flitwick and McGonagal, braying disconsolately as he walked between them. The Headmaster chided the students, asking the one who transfigured Ron's head to come forward. Of course, no one did. He then imposed a castle-wide curfew of six o'clock as punishment. The pupils all grumbled, swearing to find the culprit. Hermione never came to their minds.

Harry had looked at the Headmaster sharply. He had found out years ago, when Sirius died, how manipulative the old wizard was. He didn't completely trust Dumbledore. He didn't fully believe that someone had transfigured Ron's head as a joke when Hermione called him an ass. He thought Hermione did it somehow, but not on purpose. And he thought she dried up their polish too, still not on purpose. Hermione was a very powerful witch for her age, and was studying spell work. She might have tapped into something that she wasn't aware of. He had seen her try to do wandless magic on the donuts, and they had moved, though the spell she cast hadn't worked. There was something going on here. He'd find out what it was soon enough.

* * *

Albus searched the map again, for Snape this time. The Potions Master had left the Hall in a great hurry, right after Hermione. He found him in the library. Hm. Severus rarely went to the library. No doubt he was looking for answers to what he had seen. The Headmaster's eyes narrowed as he watched Snape's footsteps leave the library. Walking to the Main Hall and circling, before proceeding to the stairs and upper floors, then heading in another direction. The steps went to Gryffindor Tower and hesitated, then entered the common room, going up the stairs and to the empty Head Girl's room. So he was looking for Hermione. 

The Headmaster scowled. He was sure Snape had discovered Hermione was a Primordial and was seeking her out to tell her. He couldn't let this happen. Albus looked at the map.

"Mischief managed," he said. The map went blank and he put it back in the drawer. He walked over to his floo and grabbed a handful of powder out a box on the mantle and threw it into the flames.

"Gryffindor Tower," he said, stepping through.

* * *

Snape examined the empty bottles and vials sitting on the nightstand by her bed. He had easily broken the ward on her room and entered, hoping to find the witch sulking there. She wasn't, but she had left clear evidence of her theft of potions. He wasn't concerned with that now. He wanted to talk to her, persuade her stop being manipulated and take control of her situation. If he had to seduce her to get her to comply, he would. But she probably wouldn't be susceptible to seduction right now, since she was sated and probably still sore from him. Maybe he could trick her into believing he was interested in her as a lover, and wanted to continue their association. 

She might be willing to do this, since it was doubtful she could find another wizard who would meet her needs like he could. He could continue to take her as long as it suited his purposes. But he would probably have to be less brutal, for his own protection. She was powerful and he might end up a pile of ash if he went too far. No more choking.

He exited her room and hurried down the stairs, forming plots as he descended. He almost walked into Dumbledore, who stood in the center of the common room, his eyes narrowed. The old wizard cast a silencing dome around them wandlessly, so the nosy portraits would not hear their conversation.

Snape looked at him sharply. The Headmaster had no pretense of civility on his face.

"You know about Miss Granger," the Headmaster stated.

"Yes," Snape replied. He had his hand on his wand. He was no match for Albus, but he might be able to out-hex him and escape if he needed to.

"Take your hand off your wand, Severus. I have no intention on harming you," the Headmaster said.

Snape looked at him, his eyes glittering.

"If it's all the same to you Albus, I think I'll hang on to it. I seem to remember you telling that to the last Death Eater you interrogated. We both know how that ended," the Potions Master replied.

"Fine," Albus said. Then he narrowed his eyes at the dark wizard. "You are not to tell Miss Granger anything about her being a Primordial. It is bad enough you sped up the process of her awakening. You just couldn't keep your dick out of her, could you?" he hissed, his blue eyes flashing.

"She wanted to dance with a Death Eater, Albus. I gave her what she wanted," the Potions Master replied.

"Yes, I heard what you gave her," the Headmaster said evenly. "Miss Granger is the most important weapon we have against Voldemort. She will be the one who destroys him. I can't afford to have her rebelling against me, now that we are so close to success. You are to tell her nothing. And you are not to touch her again. Do I make myself clear, Severus?"

The Potions Master looked at the Headmaster consideringly.

"I think, Headmaster, that your plans for Miss Granger go much further than destroying Voldemort. You wouldn't let that much power get away from you. You want to use the witch for your own purposes," he observed, "She will be the most powerful human on earth. You know you can't let her go."

Dumbledore smiled at him unpleasantly.

"Very astute, Severus. I have spent years grooming that girl, manipulating her, filling her with ideals that will serve a greater purpose. The wizarding world is much too fragmented. It would be better off unified under one leader."

Snape quirked his lips.

"And I suppose that leader would be you," the Potions Master said silkily.

"Yes. Right in one," the Headmaster replied.

"You're no different than Voldemort," the Professor sneered. "You sit here in this castle, making your little plans for world domination. You have your loyal Order members, just as he has his Death Eaters. I know for a fact that some of the female Death Eaters they've captured don't pass through their ranks unsullied. Your followers may not exercise all the same dark tendencies as Death Eaters do, but they rape and murder just the same. I know they do, Albus."

"Yes, but only those on the side of darkness," Albus replied.

"No. Only your competition," Snape responded, his black eyes locked to Albus' blue ones.

The Headmaster grimaced at him, his demeanor threatening.

"No matter how you perceive me, Severus, you will obey me. You are my spy. Unless you want a pensieve of our little 'conversations" to fall into the hands of Voldemort, you will continue to follow my directives, collect information and leave Miss Granger to me."

"Headmaster, you may have me under your thumb, but don't press down too hard. I too have memories that the Ministry would find quite interesting," the Potions Master said evenly.

Dumbledore's hand trembled as he fought the urge to strike the Death Eater down where he stood. How dare he threaten him? But Snape was still important. He still needed him to spy.

"It seems we both need to cooperate with each other," the Headmaster said, his voice somewhat strained. "You should realize, Severus, that when I emerge victorious, you will be set for life with all the riches and power you could ever want."

Snape frowned at him.

"Now that sounds familiar. Tom Riddle told me that years ago," he replied, his black eyes hard as stone. He knew that if Dumbledore emerged victorious, he would most likely be set six feet under hard earth. His usefulness would be over, and the Headmaster didn't like loose ends.

"And as for Miss Granger, if she wants me Albus, then she will have me. I won't deny myself the pleasure of using her body. You intend to use her, after all, in a much worse manner than I," the Potions Master said smoothly.

Albus sighed. The witch had already been intimate with the Potions Master. It seemed entirely possible that she might want to be so again. He was going to try to thwart her, change her mind about the wicked wizard, but he knew he might not be able to do so, and that could be a sure way to make her rebel against him.

"Very well, Severus. Do her then if she wants it. But don't try to change her. Eighteen is a delicate age," he said, frowning, "Very impressionable. I need to remain her main influence.

"If she changes, Albus, it will be because it is already in her to change," the Professor replied, thinking of the darkness Hermione was already evidencing.

"Well she won't need your help in any case," the old wizard snapped. "Now, are we agreed on how we will handle this situation?"

Snape hesitated, then nodded.

"Good," the Headmaster said shortly. "I am going to have a talk with Miss Granger this afternoon. Hopefully I will get her back on the right track."

The Headmaster removed the dome of silence.

"I will talk to you soon, Severus," the Headmaster said, stepping back through the floo.

Snape stood there scowling. Damn Albus. How had he known he was in Gryffindor Tower?

At that moment, Harry walked into the common room.

"Professor Snape? What are you doing here?" he asked, his eyes narrowed as he looked at the dark wizard. He felt the urge to go for his wand.

"I was looking for Miss Granger. Do you know where she is?" the Potions Master asked him smoothly.

"No," Harry said shortly, thinking if he did know, he wouldn't tell this greasy bastard. The two wizards locked eyes, mutual dislike on each of their faces. Then Snape swished by him, heading for the exit.

"What did you want her for?" Harry called after the departing wizard. Snape turned.

"That, Mr. Potter, is my business," he replied, exiting.

Harry stared after him, then walked over to the couch and sat down heavily. Something was going on with Hermione. Something that wasn't good. His scar throbbed, and he ran a forefinger over it, wincing. It only hurt when Voldemort was up to something.

* * *

Snape was walking down the staircase when the pain hit him. 

"Not now," the Potions Master groaned, grasping his forearm and grimacing.

He was being summoned in the middle of the day. This couldn't be good.

* * *

Hermione finished her last ham sandwich and sighed. She looked around the Hogwarts landscape. It was early autumn and brisk but not cold. Christmas was right around the corner and she was glad of it. She could go visit her mum and dad and get a break from Hogwarts soon. She felt she really needed one. Ron had again pissed her off, accusing her of spelling his polish and making his donut explode. It was probably one of the Slytherins who made the confection burst in his face. They'd been known to cast spells from afar for a laugh, and had gotten Ron before. Usually he was hit with a jelly-legs spell or something. 

She stood up and walked back through the main doors, just in time to see Professor Snape quickly running down the stairs, holding his forearm. Oh shit. He was being summoned. Quickly forgetting what an asshole he'd been to her, Hermione ran forward.

"Professor! Can I help you? Do you want me to get the Headmaster?" she asked him, following him as he strode quickly toward the dungeon hallway.

"No, just go wherever you were going," the Professor hissed, clutching his arm.

Hermione stubbornly didn't leave his side.

"Are you going to give the Dark Lord that false information? If you do, you know he's going to punish you," she said, her amber eyes dark with concern.

Snape looked at her as he walked. What was it with this witch? His getting punished was not her concern. He lived with this every day. He was going to respond to her nastily, but he wanted to get close to the Primordial later on. Still he wanted the witch gone for right now.

"Miss Granger, I have been doing this for years. Dwelling on what the Dark Lord will or will not do to me is not conducive to my serving the Order. It only makes for apprehension, and I cannot afford to be apprehensive in his presence. So please, don't question me about this. I don't need the added pressure. Now please, leave me alone…for now."

His black eyes met hers with a bit of hotness in them that made Hermione's knees weak, even though she had no burning desire for the dark wizard.

"For now?" she asked, wanting to be sure she understood him.

"Yes," he said. "For now, Miss Granger," he replied.

That ought to hold her for a while and leave him with a way in.

Hermione stopped following the Potions Master and watched as he hurried to his office, opened the door and hurried through, closing it securely behind him. She stared at the closed portal for a few moments before turning and heading back up the corridor. He had asked her to leave him alone for now. Did that mean he would welcome her presence at another time?

She still had several months left at Hogwarts before graduation. She was sure that she would want sex again during that time, and although she was now familiar enough with the act to choose one of the younger wizards to shag with confidence, she knew instinctively that her experience wouldn't be the same as it was with the Professor. She couldn't imagine any other wizard at Hogwarts, especially a young one, who would be dark and brutal enough for her. Draco Malfoy might be. He hated her and would probably take great pleasure in roughing her up and humiliating her during sex. He had made a few crude, half-hearted passes at her.

"Hey Granger, you seem pretty uptight. Why don't you let me loosen up that tight ass of yours?"

Yep. That was Draco all right. But she wasn't the least bit attracted to the handsome pureblood. He probably couldn't hold a candle to the Professor though. Brutality was an art form to the dark wizard, a skill he had probably been honing for years as a Death Eater.

She thought about his being summoned. It was strange because he had been called during the middle of the day. The Dark Lord usually summoned Snape at night, or over the weekend. This had to be something important. She hoped the Potions Master would be all right.

She walked into the main hall, and stood there for a moment, as students began to stream out of the Great Hall. She had some free time. So she headed toward the library. She'd do some reading to take her mind off the Professor. Then she had her appointment with Dumbledore at three.

* * *

Snape hurried into his bedroom and tapped several bricks on the wall. It slid back revealing his Death Eater robe and mask. He quickly stripped off his school robes, pulled on his hooded garment, then pulled the skull-like half-mask over his face, hiding the top of his face. He stepped out of the secret room and it closed, sealing itself. 

Another sharp pain shot through his arm. Grimacing, he apparated.

* * *

Voldemort was sitting on his throne in the center of a large circular and rather barren room. A few wooden chairs were in evidence, and a bloodstained red mattress. The reptile-like wizard was dressed splendidly in a red shimmering robe, embroidered with the symbol of the Mors Mordre skull and snake in gold thread. He looked rather bored, tapping his wand against the side of the throne absently, his red eyes idly watching his Death Eaters indulge themselves. 

A few Death Eater females were having a bit of sport with a young muggle male who couldn't have been more than nineteen. They had him tied naked to a chair and were taking turns arousing him, then sitting on him. The boy probably wouldn't have minded this, but they had applied a spell to their genitals that gave him great pain while not allowing him to deflate. Plus they wore their hoods and masks, which was pretty horrifying, even though their robes were open and underneath they were naked and rather shapely. The young man was so hoarse from screaming that he could only work his mouth and grimace painfully as the women took turns mounting him.

Snape apparated in front of the Dark Lord's throne, bowing deeply.

"You summoned me, my Lord?" he asked politely as he stepped forward and kissed the back of the wizard's scaly hand.

"Yes, Severus. I have been sensing some increasing power at Hogwarts since last night. What do you know of this?" the wizard asked, his red eyes blazing into Snape's expectantly. The wand stopped tapping.

Snape thought about this. His knowledge about Miss Granger could put him in better and safer standing with the Dark Lord, especially since the information he had been giving him lately was not panning out, thanks to Dumbledore. He made his decision quickly.

"A muggle-born witch has had her powers awakened, my Lord. She is a Primordial, and as of yet is unaware of her powers."

"A Primordial! Severus, do you know this witch?" the Dark Lord said, sitting up in his chair and leaning forward excited.

"Intimately my Lord," Snape responded, knowing this would delight Voldemort.

"Intimately? You've had this witch, Severus?" the wizard asked him, his red eyes glowing now.

"Yes, my Lord. Last night. I deflowered her, my Lord," the Potions Master replied.

Voldemort sat back on his throne and eyed the Potions Master.

"I suppose Dumbledore is aware of the witch's power?" he asked Snape.

Snape nodded.

"Yes my Lord, he has been manipulating the witch for years, preparing her to join the Order. She is completely unaware of her growing power as yet…"

Snape hesitated, knowing his next statement would secure his safety.

"…she's beginning to exhibit rebelliousness and dark tendencies, my Lord. Dumbledore has piled too much on the witch, and controlled her too tightly," he said, a small smirk on his face. Voldemort's tongue flickered out delightedly.

"A Primordial. What power!" he looked at Snape. "Do you think she can be turned, Severus? Do you think she could be lured away by evil?"

"Possibly, my Lord," the Potions Master said smoothly. "But she is a mudblood, sir."

Voldemort waved his hand dismissively. "She is a Primordial, I don't care what her parentage is. She is the most powerful witch in existence, and I want her, Severus. Her powers make her the purest of us all!"

The Dark Lord stood up. He was tall and thin as he descended the throne and stood face to face with the Potions Master.

"You have possessed the witch, so she has some tie with you. Is she still amicable towards you? Or did you brutalize her to the point she will not return to you?" he asked Snape, his eyes narrowing.

"I was brutal as I always am, my Lord," Snape replied, "But the witch has a need to be brutalized. I think in a few weeks, when the urge comes to her again, she may come to me to satisfy her."

Voldemort looked at him consideringly.

"Does that bastard Dumbledore know you have tampered with his prize pupil?" he asked.

"Yes sir. He does. He is not happy about it, but the witch is of the age of consent and can shag who she likes. Currently, she likes me. He tried to warn me off of her, but I refused and he had to accept that," Snape said, knowing it would please Voldemort to know he had faced off with Albus successfully.

"Excellent. So he cannot interfere with you and the Primordial's intimacies. Excellent!" Voldemort said, smiling and showing two rows of small pointed teeth between his scaly lips.

"I want you to work on turning her, Severus. And I want you to bring her to meet me as soon as possible. I want to see what the witch is about," the wizard lisped, running a long finger down the Potion Master's cheek. "This is of the utmost importance and supersedes any of your other duties. Can you do this?"

"Yes, my Lord," Severus said. He wasn't sure if he could, but you didn't tell the Dark Lord you'd "try". He wanted results.

The Dark Lord slapped Snape on the back heartily.

"I was afraid I would have to kill you soon, Severus. Your information has been sadly ineffective lately. But this bit of news makes up for all your failings…"

The Dark Lord walked back to his throne and sat down. He looked at Snape.

"However…"

The Dark Lord raised his wand and pointed it at the Potions Master.

"Crucio!" he cried.

Snape locked up immediately in pain, shuddering, his teeth gnashing together and his eyes rolling up into his head as the curse wracked his body. Voldemort held the curse on him for more than a minute. The Potions Master lost control of all body functions, urine and shit filling his boxers as he seizured. Finally the Dark Lord released him. Snape collapsed to the ground.

"I don't want you to ever think you're indispensable, Severus. You are my servant. You serve me and not your own agenda. You are a brilliant wizard, Severus, and clever, more clever than most of my Death Eaters put together. Do not try to use your relationship with the Primordial to turn her to you. She is meant for me. If I even think you are trying to influence her to be independent, you will suffer as no wizard has ever suffered. Do I make myself clear?" the Dark Lord asked with deceptive softness.

"Yes, my Lord," Snape breathed, rising slowly from the ground. Voldemort scourgified him.

"Return to Hogwarts, Severus. Make turning the girl your first priority, even above collecting information," the Dark Lord said, his red eyes flickering over the stony-faced Death Eater. He didn't trust Snape fully. He was too independent, too smart for his own good. And he was a powerful Occulmens, so the Dark Lord never knew if he were seeing the whole truth when he looked into his mind, though the Potions Master assured him, under the Cruciatus curse that he was hiding nothing.

The Dark Lord cocked his head at the Potions Master.

"Before you depart, Severus, do you have any other news for me?" he asked.

Snape thought about the disinformation Albus wanted him to share with the Dark Lord. Fuck that. Not this time, you cruel blue-eyed bastard.

"No, my Lord," he replied, "Nothing of worth."

"Normally, that would displease me, Severus…but your information about the Primordial is greater than anything that fool Dumbledore could be up to. Turn her, Severus and your reward will be great."

The greatest reward Severus could think of would be to be freed from both Voldemort's and Albus' plans for world domination. But that would never happen…unless…

He bowed low to Lord Voldemort.

"Yes my Lord. I will not fail you," he said.

Voldemort's eyes glittered at him.

"See that you don't, Severus," he hissed.

The Potions Master apparated back to his rooms. He was the only wizard who could apparate at Hogwarts because of the dismal condition he would be in when he returned from many of the Dark Lord's summons. If he were forced to apparate outside the gates and cross the grounds, most likely he would have died in the attempt. So Dumbledore reluctantly granted him access after two or three close calls.

Snape sat down heavily on his bed, clutching his side. He was sure his ribs were cracked. He divestoed his Death Eater garb. It returned to the hidden room. Naked, he stretched out on the bed and examined his side. Yes, it was badly bruised. But he had been fortunate he had Miss Granger to offer up to the Dark Lord. Now he was relatively safe, and had time.

Albus would never know he hadn't given Voldemort the false information. He could lie and say the Dark Lord felt it a waste of manpower to attack muggle-borns who were yet untrained. It was a feasible explanation, and his occulmency skills would be just as effective against Albus as they were against Voldemort.

The biggest challenge he would face would be getting Miss Granger to agree to visit Voldemort. He would have to find a way. He would also need to find a way to amp up the rebelliousness in the young witch. The best way to do this was to surreptiously let her know just how much Albus had manipulated her over the years, but let her think she had realized it on her own. He couldn't just tell her.

Snape smirked. He loved a challenge.

Voldemort's warning came back to him. The Dark Wizard was no fool. Snape was entirely capable of attempting to twist Miss Granger to suit his own ends. In fact, it was a possibility that he hadn't completely rejected, despite the Dark Lord's threats. He knew that he was destined for death at either Albus' or Voldemort's hand at the end of all this madness, no matter which side won. Miss Granger might be his one shot at survival.

That alone was worth the wrath of both Dark Lords.

* * *

At two forty-five, Hermione closed the book she had been trying to absorb herself in. It hadn't worked. The Professor was on her mind. What was happening to him? Did he give Voldemort that information? 

Hermione felt a little burst of anger at the Headmaster. How could he set his own spy up to be tortured? That's precisely what he did. It was a callous act Hermione would not have believed her Headmaster to be capable of. She realized there was a war going on, and sometimes sacrifices had to be made, but this one seemed so senseless and cruel. Snape might embrace the evil he was surrounded with, but it was the Headmaster who placed him back under the thumb of the Dark Lord. Hermione had heard the Potions Master's story. How he had come to Dumbledore when he wasn't much older than she was, confessed his crimes and was willing to be turned over to the Aurors and punished. It might have meant execution. But the Headmaster convinced him to return to the Dark Lord, telling him he could redeem himself by giving information on his activities. Snape didn't find redemption. Instead he found an all-consuming evil and pain. Much, much pain. He was forced to become what he tried to save himself from, and accepted it fully rather than tear himself apart.

As she headed toward Albus' office, Hermione wondered if she were in the Potions Master's position, would she have embraced the evil he was forced to be immersed in? It was possible. She could almost see the logic of Snape using evil acts to release the bitterness eating him up inside, since he had to do evil anyway to keep his cover. She wondered if the Headmaster was trying to punish the Potions Master for his crimes even as he used him. She frowned. The Headmaster was becoming less kindly in her estimation. The vision she'd experienced earlier today came back to her as she walked up the corridor.

Hermione found the gargoyle was already to the side of the entrance to the Headmaster's office, and the spiral staircase was opened. She mounted the stairs, a cold feeling growing in her belly. She wondered what the Headmaster wanted to speak to her about. Probably his plans for her after graduation. And maybe her intimacies with Professor Snape.

She found the Headmaster's office opened and walked in. He wasn't there. She looked and saw Fawkes, who immediately burst into song when the witch entered. She walked over to the Phoenix and ran her hand over the soft feathers.

"Hi Fawkes," she said gently. The Phoenix trilled.

"Miss Granger. Formerly of Gryffindor House," said a rough surly voice.

Hermione looked up.

"Over here," the voice said.

Hermione spun in the direction the voice came from. Her amber eyes fell on the Sorting Hat, which nodded at her. It was resting on the top of a bookshelf and bent slightly toward her.

"What do you mean, formerly of Gryffindor?" Hermione said, her brow wrinkled.

"You should be resorted. But they don't do that here. Yet, trust me when I tell you that you are no longer a Gryffindor at heart, Miss Granger. People change," the hat said.

"What?" Hermione said, stunned. No longer a Gryffindor? Well, what was she then?

"If I'm not a Gryffindor at heart anymore, then what am I?" she asked the hat.

Albus entered at that precise moment, and the Sorting Hat fell silent.

"Did you say something, Miss Granger?" the Headmaster inquired politely as he took a seat behind his desk.

Fawkes immediately stopped singing, shuffling back and forth on her perch as if disturbed.

Hermione continued to gaze at the Sorting Hat for a moment, then turned her eyes on the Headmaster.

"Ah, no sir," she said, walking over to the comfortable armchair positioned directly in front of his desk.

"What did you want to talk to me about, sir?" she asked.

"Several things, Miss Granger. The first is, most delicate and personal I'm afraid. It concerns you and Professor Snape," he said, his blue eyes fixed on her.

Hermione colored a bit, but said nothing.

The Headmaster drew a deep breath as if about to embark on a difficult physical endeavor.

"Miss Granger, I realize you are of the age of consent, and can choose whom you wish to involve yourself with sexually," the Headmaster said, "Normally, I would not think of invading your privacy concerning this matter, except for the fact that you have chosen a very dark and evil man to be your lover."

Hermione raised her eyebrows at this assessment of Professor Snape. It was true, but still it seemed wrong for Albus to say this without acknowledging the good the dark wizard was doing for him.

"The Professor may serve the Order, Miss Granger, but he is far from the hero you have made him out to be. He embraces the activities of the Death Eaters, and participates in them himself. He has raped and murdered muggles and magical people alike without remorse. I believe he honestly takes pleasures in the crimes he commits. He is not suitable for you, Miss Granger. He is not suitable for anyone. He is an evil man," the Headmaster said.

"If he is so evil, Headmaster, why do you continue to use him?" Hermione asked.

"Because he is our only link to Voldemort. The information he brings back is valuable," the Headmaster replied.

Hermione looked at Albus a bit darkly.

"But Headmaster, he goes into Voldemort's presence with the intention of bring you back information, and does so at great personal peril. He suffers horribly for the Order. And the crimes he commits, doesn't he do so in the name of the Order? Doesn't he actually commit them for you? He couldn't be a spy if he did not participate. Voldemort would know immediately he was not with his Death Eaters," she said.

The Headmaster hesitated.

"It is true he serves the 'greater good' Miss Granger, but he shows no remorse for his actions. He throws himself into them like any other Death Eater," the Headmaster said a bit hotly. He did not like the direction this conversation was taking. Miss Granger appeared to be defending the Potions Master's.

"He already showed remorse when he first came to you years ago, Headmaster. And you sent him back to Voldemort to continue in his service, to continue to kill and rape in order to serve you. If you don't mind me saying so sir, you helped make him the way he is now," Hermione said evenly. "Actually, you act as much as a Dark Lord towards him as Voldemort."

Dumbledore secretly cursed the young witch's brilliance at logic. She was already too close.

"Be that as it may, Miss Granger, I am speaking to you concerning his unsuitability. Regardless as to why he is so evil, the fact remains he is evil. You are too good, too promising to be involved with the likes of him. There are many younger, better-suited wizards available, Miss Granger. You would be better off to take up with one of them," he said reasonably.

Dumbledore was avoiding the issue of his part in the Professor's descent into evil. Hermione didn't like when people didn't take responsibility for their actions. And to think, the Headmaster piled all this additional responsibility on her shoulders when he could not, or would not admit Snape's current situation was partially his fault, if not totally. He could have at least acknowledged he played some part. His lack of truthfulness made the cold feeling in her belly grow. She could imagine him manipulating the strings on Snape's limp body.

"I'll consider what you've said, Headmaster," she replied non-commitally.

Dumbledore knew he hadn't scored any points on this exchange. The witch saw that Snape served him, and that his actions were a reflection on the Headmaster as much as himself.

"Thank you, Miss Granger. Now as to the next issue I would like to speak to you about are our plans for after graduation. You will be moved into your own private rooms at twelve Grimmauld place, given your own set of labs and begin developing Spells to use against the Dark Lord," he said, smiling at her.

Hermione looked at him. Now was the time to spring her news on him.

"Actually Headmaster, I planned to take a year off and spend it with my family in muggle London. I've been under a lot of stress these past two years at Hogwarts, and I need some "me" time. I miss my family, and want to enjoy them before I get totally immersed in Order work," she said.

The Headmaster's smile disappeared.

"But Miss Granger, we need you to begin work as soon as possible," he said haltingly.

"I can still do some spell work at home, Headmaster, and deliver them to the Order as they are completed. I just wouldn't be living at Headquarters. I need this time off, sir," she said with finality.

Albus felt like shaking the young witch. What was she thinking? He couldn't let her go off to live with her parents now that her powers were coming to fruition. He would have to stop her from going. He gave her a kindly look.

"Very well, Miss Granger. If you feel you need to get away from the magical world for a time, then that is your prerogative," he said,

Fawkes gave a worried trill from her perch. Albus looked sharply at the Phoenix before returning his gaze to Hermione and continued:

"But I want you to remember that Voldemort is a threat to not only our world, but the muggle world as well. If he should come into full power, after subduing the magical world, he will turn to the other. We need you, Miss Granger. Very badly. Your skills combined with your intelligence can help us defeat him. We have Harry, but we need more to be sure his evil is stopped. Yet you are entitled to live your own life. I only hope that you will not forget your responsibility to help end his madness. If a year off is what you want, then by all means, take it."

Hermione was surprised. She thought he would argue with her, try to manipulate her into staying and doing what he wanted. Maybe Snape was wrong about him. He might be pushy, but he was being reasonable. She smiled at the Headmaster.

"Thank you for understanding sir," she said, "and I won't turn my back on my responsibilities. I just need to get out from under them for a while. I really appreciate your support in this."

"Of course, Miss Granger. I only want what's best for you," Albus replied, his blue eyes twinkling.

"Is there anything else you wish to discuss with me, sir?" Hermione asked him, feeling much better about everything.

"No. No, Miss Granger, that about covers it for now. Later we will discuss what you can do for the Order while on your sabbatical," he said, rising.

Hermione stood and slung her backpack over her shoulder.

"Thank you again, Headmaster," she said.

"You're very welcome, Miss Granger," the Headmaster replied.

Hermione exited his office.

As soon as he was sure she was gone, the Headmaster slammed his fist on the desk in a fit of temper.

"That ungrateful little wench," he breathed. "I spend all this time nurturing her, making her life easier here at Hogwarts and she wants to abandon me to go stay with mummy and daddy."

Dumbledore's visage grew dark, as dark as the one in Hermione's vision.

"I believe I will have to handle this situation myself," he growled. "Miss Granger will not abandon me for a month, much less a year."

He thought about Snape. The Potions Master was in a good position to further influence the Primordial. He couldn't allow that either.

"And in the process of handling this, I will destroy Snape's hold on her as well," he said to himself, sitting back down at his desk, "She won't want him to come near her by the time I'm finished."

The Headmaster gazed into space…making plans.

From her perch, Fawkes let out a despairing chirp.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading. More to come. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Inside the Blackest Heart Part 6**

When Hermione returned to the common room, she discovered Harry sitting there, waiting for her, a very serious look in his green eyes. She walked over to the sofa, took off her backpack and set it on the floor, then sat down beside him.

"Hey Harry. Where's Ron?" she asked him.

Harry looked at her soberly.

"He's in the infirmary, Hermione," he replied, adjusting his glasses and looking at her intently.

"In the infirmary? Why? What happened to him?" Hermione asked, worry etched into her face.

"His head turned into a donkey's head. An ass's head. After you left the Great Hall. McGonagal and Flitwick took him to Pomfrey to see if she could change him back," Harry said.

Hermione tried to hold her laughter back because of how serious Harry looked, but she couldn't and burst out in hysterics.

"An ass's head! Oh gods. I wish I could have seen that. Who transfigured him?" she asked, trying to stop laughing.

Harry looked at her.

"I think you did," he said softly.

Hermione stopped laughing.

"Me? How could I have done it? I wasn't even there. And I don't know a spell to transfigure someone's head anyway," Hermione said, looking at Harry with a slight frown. He wasn't Ron. He wouldn't say something like this unless he thought it could really be true.

"Hermione, have you noticed anything strange happening around you? Anything magical that you can't explain? Or maybe not even magical. Just strange?" Harry asked her.

Hermione thought about it. The door to her room opened by itself earlier, and Professor Snape's ink dried out twice when he was trying to write a list to Filch. She told Harry about this. He looked thoughtful.

"You really needed to get into your room, and the door opened, even though it was locked and warded. You didn't use magic?" he asked her.

"No, I was about to get out my wand, when it opened," she said.

"And with Snape's list. You really didn't want him to write it, did you?" Harry asked her.

"No. He was being an idiot," she replied, scowling, "trying to make my detention extra hard."

"And his ink dried up, just like mine and Ron's polish did, when you told us we shouldn't be polishing our brooms in the common room," he observed.

"It could all be explained somehow. I don't know what happened to the polish, but Snape probably had some bad ink. And maybe the door wasn't warded," she said, an odd feeling beginning in her stomach.

"You told Ron he was an ass, then he practically turned into one," Harry said to her softly.

"Someone else could have hexed him. Maybe the Slytherins. They're always doing something to Ron," she said.

"That's what Dumbledore tried to tell us. But I really don't think so, Hermione. I think something is going on with you. Maybe you are doing wandless magic without knowing it," he said.

"No. I would still have to use a spell. Plus I can't do wandless magic," Hermione replied, nervously rubbing her palms together.

"Those donuts you tried to cast a spell on, moved. They didn't explode but they definitely moved. Something you did affected them, Hermione," Harry said. Hermione looked at him. She could see her image reflected oddly in his glasses.

"It still wasn't wandless magic," she said stubbornly. She didn't want to think Harry might be right.

"You don't know what it was, Hermione. But it was definitely something," Harry said, his green eyes intent upon his friend. She looked different somehow. Older. More mature.

Hermione was looking thoughtful now.

"Harry, have you ever heard of magic being performed without spells or charms?" she asked him.

Harry shook his head.

Hermione grinned at him.

"That's because you always slept in Professor Binns class," she said, "but I distinctly remember him saying something about witches who could perform magic without spells. There was one, a Lily…no…Lilith someone, who was an empress or something. She could work magic without spells. So spell-less magic is possible."

Hermione stood up, grabbing her knapsack.

"Where are you going?" Harry asked her.

"Back to the library. I want to look this Lilith up. Find out about the possibility of performing spell-less magic," she said.

"I'm coming with you," Harry said.

He hadn't been to the library with Hermione in a while. Normally it was pretty boring, but this could be interesting, particularly if they found something that could explain what was happening with his friend.

"Come on then," she said, taking his arm.

Together they exited the common room, making a beeline for the library.

Hermione told Harry about her meeting with Dumbledore, though she left out the part about Professor Snape. Harry would be horrified to know she had let the Potions Master shag her.

"He actually agreed that you could take a year off?" Harry said, amazed.

He knew Dumbledore rarely allowed his plans to be changed. He himself had been practically imprisoned at twelve Grimmauld place for the past three years, and the Headmaster would hardly give an inch. It took Molly Weasley browbeating the wizard to get Harry off to go to the Burrows for a couple of weeks. He had enjoyed his stay. Ginny had enthusiastically introduced him to the joys of sex, on several occasions. She was something else. But she wasn't interested in a real relationship. She just liked to shag. He was glad Ron never found out about them. Friend or not, he would have tried to kill Harry.

"Yes. I couldn't believe it," she said.

"It's pretty hard to believe, all right," Harry responded.

They turned down the hall that led to the library.

"I hope we can find something on this," Hermione said, pushing open the library doors.

Madam Pince looked up from her cataloguing.

"Back so soon, Miss Granger? You just left," she said, smiling at the witch. Hermione was one of Madam Pince favorite students. She had a love of books almost equal to her own, and always returned them in perfect condition.

"Yes. I need to look something up. Do you have any books that tell about spell-less magic?" she asked the librarian.

"Why, yes I do," replied Madam Pince, walking toward the glass case. Harry and Hermione followed her. "Seems like spell-less magic is a popular topic today," the librarian commented as she performed the intricate pattern needed to open the case.

"Really?" asked Hermione, very interested.

"Yes. Professor Snape was in here earlier, looking up the same subject. He found what he was looking for in this book," she said, picking the book up carefully and setting it on the table.

Harry and Hermione looked at each other.

"Professor Snape was in the common room earlier, looking for you," Harry said to Hermione as they sat down.

"The Gryffindor common room?" Hermione asked him, looking shocked. Harry nodded.

"Did he say why?" the witched asked her friend.

"No. You know how he is. He said that was his business and left," Harry replied, looking at the book in front of them.

Hm. Snape must have been leaving Gryffindor Tower when the Dark Lord summoned him. She wondered why he was looking for her? She thought about it. He must have come to the library before going to the common room to look for her. It couldn't have been afterward because he had to go see the Dark Lord. Suddenly she looked at the book in front of her with a bit of apprehension.

"Go on, open it Hermione. Let's see what it says," Harry urged.

It didn't take the witch long to locate the passage Snape had found. She and Harry read it over. Harry looked at Hermione with wide eyes.

"Hermione, could you be a Primordial?" he asked her in an awed voice.

Hermione stared down at the book, then turned frightened eyes on Harry.

"I…I don't know," she said in a low voice.

"Well, the book says you wouldn't know you even had the power until you reached maturity. When did these strange things start happening?" he asked.

"Today," she said a bit weakly.

"So you must have reached maturity today," Harry said. "You're eighteen after all. And you've always been more mature than Ron and me, even when we were first years."

Hermione hardly heard Harry. She had matured overnight, thanks to the sexual ministrations of the Potions Master. He must have triggered this, then seen what happened to Ron in the Great Hall and come to the library to find out about spell-less magic. So he knew she could be a Primordial.

"It isn't definite I am a Primordial, Harry," Hermione said, "The things that are happening around me can be explained away by other means."

Harry looked at Hermione with narrowed eyes. She was trying to find excuses, reasons not to believe this.

"Yes, maybe. But Snape coming here too makes it a distinct possibility he believes you are a Primordial. Maybe that's why he was looking for you. To tell you," Harry said, blinking at her.

Hermione just stared at him. Harry knew that look. She was afraid.

"Don't be scared, Hermione. If you are a Primordial, you will be able to do amazing things," he said. Then his eyes grew round.

"You'll be able to stop Voldemort!" he breathed.

For Harry, this was a rather joyous revelation. He might be off the hook. He stood up and grabbed Hermione by the arm.

"Come on," he said, "let's try to test your powers."

Hermione barely managed to grab her backpack as the boy who lived dragged her unceremoniously out of the library and down another familiar hallway. They stopped in front of a nondescript door.

The Room of Requirement.

* * *

Hermione and Harry stood before the closed door of the Room of Requirement.

"What do you supposed the room will provide us with, Harry?" Hermione asked, hesitant about pushing open the door.

Harry shrugged.

"I don't know, Hermione. But it will be what you need. Come on," he said, taking her cold, clammy hand and pushing the door open.

For the first time in either Harry or Hermione's remembrance, the room of requirement was almost completely empty. There was one comfortable armchair and that was it.

Hermione's brow furrowed as she looked around.

"It's not giving me anything," she said, turning to Harry. "There's nothing in here I can use."

Harry looked at the comfortable armchair, then at his friend. His mouth quirked a little.

"I think that chair's for me," he said, and he sat down looking up at her. "I think the room is trying to tell you that you already have all you need."

Hermione wasn't sure about this, but she shrugged her backpack off her shoulder and put it down on the ground. She looked at Harry.

"Go on, Hermione. Try to make something happen," he said.

"Something like what?" she asked him

"Try to make the room shake," he said.

Hermione stood in the center of the room. She imagined the room shaking. Nothing happened.

She looked at Harry.

"Nothing happened," she said.

Harry considered her.

"Maybe you need to throw your arms out. Use them like a wand to focus the power," Harry said, looking at the limbs in question.

Hermione tried that. She thought she felt a little shudder.

"Did you feel that Harry?" she asked him excitedly.

Harry looked at her.

"No, I didn't feel anything," he responded. "Try again."

Hermione did. This time she definitely felt a shudder.

"Now I know I felt that, Harry. There was a shudder," she said.

Harry frowned.

"I didn't feel a thing, Hermione. Maybe you're shuddering because you are trying so hard," he replied. Hermione scowled at him.

"I know what I felt, Harry," she said a little sharply.

Harry scowled at her.

"I'm telling you Hermione, nothing shuddered in this room. You're imagining it because you want it to happen so badly," he said.

Hermione looked at Harry darkly. Then suddenly Harry was launched into the air, limbs sprawled every which way, to land several feet away on a large mattress that materialized under him just before he hit the hard stone floor. He would have definitely broken something.

Hermione gasped, covering her mouth with her hands before running over to the surprised and somewhat dazed wizard.

"I'm SO sorry Harry," she said, kneeling down and helping him to a sitting position. He looked up at her and grinned.

"Well, at least you acknowledge that you did this. There's no other explanation, is there?" he said smiling at her. "Now, what happened before I flew out of the chair? To you, I mean"

Hermione looked at him consideringly as he rose from the mattress and stood in front of her, brushing himself off.

"Well, I was a little angry at you because you were sitting there all smug in the comfortable chair, telling me I wasn't experiencing what I was experiencing when I knew I was, and suddenly you went flying," she said.

They both looked at each other in realization.

"Emotion triggers the power," Hermione said, " Can't do anything consciously yet, but if I feel strongly about something, the magic reacts to it. It's like crawling before walking, Harry."

"Yes, but what a way to crawl. You got really mad at Ron and look what you did to him. I'm glad you are developing powers, Hermione, but you have a terrible temper. There's no telling what mayhem your emotions will cause," he said, looking at Hermione with a worried look.

Hermione looked thoughtful.

"I bet when I am able to control my reactions, I will be able to consciously control the power. Maybe this is the way a Primordial is prepared to use such a power. When I can feel an emotion without triggering a magical reaction, I might be able to consciously use it. Right now, I am physically mature, so the power is manifesting, but I'm not yet emotional mature enough," she said musingly. She looked at Harry.

"Harry, I don't need to practice magic. I need to practice controlling my reactions, and my emotions. I have to get into situations where my patience and tolerance is tested, and keep the Primordial powers from manifesting. If I can subdue them, then I can control them!" she said happily.

"Now who do you know that brings out a lot of negative emotions in you?" Harry asked grinning.

"Ron,' she said without hesitation.

"Yes, he's one. But there's someone else who's been pissing you off for years," he said, his grin becoming a bit evil.

Hermione's eyes widened.

"Oh Harry, you can't mean…" she gasped.

The wizard nodded his head. The look on his face was indescribable.

"Snape," he said, "Snape drives you bananas. If you can keep from flinging him around a room, you'll have loads of control. Plus, he already knows about your developing powers."

"But Harry, he'll never agree to help me," she said, "especially if it requires him to be the target of my magical tantrums."

Harry considered this. She was right of course. Snape would never consent to being tossed around or whatever other way Hermione's power manifested. Even though the part of aggravating and tormenting her would probably appeal to him greatly. He already did that anyway. To be able to pick at her at will…he might really find that aspect enjoyable.

"I still think you should ask him. Maybe you need to tell Dumbledore too, Hermione," Harry said.

"No!" said Hermione. "I don't want to tell him, Harry. Then he'll lock down on me again for sure. Not let me go home for Christmas or for the year. He'll want me to focus all my energy on this power for the Order. I might be a Primordial, but I still want to be able to move about freely. You see how he treats you," she said, her eyebrows furled. "I'm not telling him anything."

"How do you know Snape won't tell him?" Harry asked.

Hermione shrugged. "Maybe he will. But I can ask him not to. Hopefully he won't have said anything about it yet. Snape came looking for me, not Dumbledore. So there's a chance he won't tell, at least not until he talks to me."

Harry nodded.

"Well, I still say Snape would be your best choice for practicing control. You've been getting mad at Ron for ages. He can set you off with three words. You can start out with Snape then work your way up to Ron," Harry said.

Hermione looked doubtful.

"Well since you are going to ask him not to tell Dumbledore, you can ask him that too. All he can say is no, and probably take points from Gryffindor for you have the audacity to ask him if you could bounce him around the castle. Gods, I would love to see that though," Harry said, looking wistful.

Hermione laughed at the look on the wizard's face.

"Yes, it is kind of appealing, isn't it?" Hermione grinned at him. She picked up her knapsack.

"Well, we can't do anything more here, and I'm getting kind of hungry. What's say we head down to supper?" she asked.

"Sorry Mione, I have Quidditch practice. Training some beaters. I was going to grab something from the kitchens later," he said apologetically.

"That's all right, Harry. You've been a great help to me today. Thank you," she said, kissing him on the cheek. Harry blushed.

"Well, at least I got a chance to finally help you out," he responded, "Merlin knows you've pulled my bum out of the fire more than once,"

"Friends don't keep count on what they do for each other, Harry. They just have to be there and do what they can when they can," she said, taking his arm and heading out of the room of requirement.

"Do you think we should tell Ron about my being a Primordial?" Hermione asked.

"Maybe we should. Otherwise he'll be aggravating you every time he sees you about the polish and the donut and probably the ass's head," Harry said. "I'll take care of that. I think if you try to talk to him right now, he'll end up flat on his back someplace."

Hermione gave a small smile. Harry was right. Ron would definitely set her off.

They walked down the staircases to the main hall, arm in arm. They stopped.

"Well, I got to go, Mione," Harry said, releasing the witch's arm. "Quidditch calls."

"Yes, the call of the wild," Hermione replied grinning. She kissed his cheek again.

"I'm glad you're in my life, Harry," she said softly.

"Me too, Mione," he replied, his green eyes meeting her amber ones with affection. "I'll catch you in the common room later."

"All right," Hermione said as he walked away, waving. Hermione watched him until he exited the main hall, then turned and headed for the Great Hall. She was famished and she wanted to see if the Professor was back from his visitation with the Dark Lord.

She thought about what she had learned today.

She was a Primordial. That would make her more powerful than any other witch or wizard in existence. She could stop the war and get her own life back. She could live like she wanted.

Once she came into full power, no one could ever tell her what to do again.

* * *

Snape sat at the Head table eating a rare steak and potatoes none the worse for wear. He had healed his cracked ribs with a powerful healing potion he had created himself to treat injuries received from the Dark Lord. One day he planned to market it, if he were ever freed of his service to Albus and Voldemort, and managed to live. The Professor looked up when the doors to the Great Hall opened, and Miss Granger entered with her backpack slung over her shoulder.

He looked at the witch curiously. Hermione had an excited flush on her face as she took her seat at the Gryffindor table. She began pulling platters toward her, filling her plate. Her appetite was still quite large judging by the amount of food she gathered. Harry and Ron were conspicuously absent. Ron was still in the infirmary with his ass's head still in braying evidence. The Potions Master smirked at the memory of the red-tufted donkey-faced wizard. He didn't know where Harry was. Probably on the Quidditch pitch, knowing the young wizard's love of the game.

Snape looked toward Hermione again, hooding his eyes so his gaze would not be obvious. The Dark Lord had ordered him to try and turn her to evil, to stay close to her, and to continue to possess her. Though the Professor originally had no intentions of indulging Miss Granger again, he found the idea of someone as despised and hated as he riding and brutalizing the most powerful witch in existence quite arousing. Even if he could not choke her anymore, he could tear into her body the way he wished. There was an element of danger to the act that he found quite appealing. But he had to get her to agree to continue her association with him. He had to do more than that actually. He would have to get her to confide in him, so he would know how to proceed with her.

Suddenly Snape was aware Hermione was looking at him. The expression on her face reminded him of her when she was an overzealous first year student dying to tell him some kernel of information or an observation. He scowled at the witch out of habit, but her expression didn't change. The Potions Master glanced down the table at Albus, who was looking at Miss Granger as she looked at him. There was something malicious beneath the Headmaster's genteel expression that made Snape feel a little colder than usual inside. He began to eat again, wondering when he could arrange a talk with Miss Granger. Possibly tonight, when she was on her rounds.

* * *

Hermione headed toward the dungeons corridor. She didn't catch any snogging or shagging students tonight while on her rounds, probably due to the curfew Dumbledore imposed on the student body because of Ron's transfiguration. Normally, Hermione would have felt guilty about the entire school being punished for something she had done, purposely or not, but she found she didn't feel any remorse about it. She could move freely through the school after the curfew, so Dumbledore's proclamation didn't affect her. And if it didn't affect her, why should she worry about it?

She continued down the hall, checking niches and secret rooms. Again she found no one. She approached the Potions Master's door, and hesitated. Did she dare disturb him? If she did, would he assume she had come back for more of the same treatment he had given her the night before? She didn't want that from him. She just wanted to talk to him and see if he were all right after his visit to the Dark Lord. Of course, he wouldn't appreciate her concern and by rights, he didn't deserve her concern, but she couldn't help how she felt.

As she stood there debating, the door to the Potion's office was flung open, and Professor Snape stood there, looking down at her, his eyes glittering.

"Miss Granger," he purred, "Is there a reason you are standing in front of my door?"

"Ah, no sir," Hermione said, "I was just doing my rounds."

The Professor studied the witch's face.

"Don't lie to me, Miss Granger. It is obvious by your expression there is something you wish to talk to me about. Come in here now," he said commandingly, opening the door wider and stepping aside.

Hermione hesitated. The Potions Master scowled.

"Miss Granger, I don't want to stand here all night holding the door open and letting what scant heat my office holds be sucked out into the dungeons. Come along!" he sneered.

Hermione walked into his office and sat down in the hard wooden chair in front of Snape's desk. The Potions Master had purposely put the uncomfortable chair there to keep his students off balance when they came to talk with him. His chair swiveled, and was comfortable upholstered. The Potions Master warded his office and put a silencing charm around the room. He then walked around his desk and sat down, looking at Hermione expectantly. When she didn't speak, he sighed.

"Miss Granger, I don't have all night," he said tiredly. He was very interested to know what the witch had to say.

"Professor Snape, please don't tell the Headmaster I'm a Primordial!" Hermione blurted out.

Snape was shocked that the witch had discovered her own secret. He was doubly shocked that she knew he knew. He decided to find out exactly how much she knew.

"Miss Granger, what are you talking about?" he asked her.

She settled her amber eyes on him measuringly.

"I know you were in the library looking up spell-less magic today, Professor, after what happened to Ron in the Great Hall, and what happened to your ink in class. I read the same book you did. You sped up the process, Professor, when you shagged me last night. I am a Primordial, and my powers are growing. You know what that means," she said evenly.

"Yes I do, Miss Granger," the Potions Master replied, "it means that a great amount of power will be in the hands of someone not able to make her own decisions. It means you will be a powerful puppet for others, that's what it means."

Hermione winced at the Potions Master's puppet reference. It made her think of the vision.

She frowned at him slightly.

"I assure you, Professor, I have no intentions of being anyone's puppet. When my powers fully manifest, I will control my own life. No one will control me," she said darkly.

Snape raised his eyebrows at this. She fully intended to use her powers for her own agenda. Well done, Miss Granger.

"But I need to hide what is happening to me until I can consciously control my magical abilities. As it stands, I am physically mature enough to have awakened the powers, but they only manifest in response to my emotional state. If I am angry or upset. I need to be able to feel emotions and keep the magic from reacting. Once I can do that, then I will be able to consciously direct it, and come to full power. If Dumbledore finds this out, he won't let me leave at the end of the year," she said.

Snape's expression went dark.

"Leave, Miss Granger? You are going somewhere after graduation?" he asked, his stomach tightening. Albus would never let her leave his influence. Especially now that her powers were manifesting.

"Yes. I talked to the Headmaster today, and tested him as you suggested. I want to take a year off after graduation, to spend with my family before starting work in the Order. He hedged a little, but finally agreed. He didn't try to manipulate me into staying like you claimed he would," she said rather smugly. The Potions Master ran his pale hand over his face and looked at Hermione keenly.

"Miss Granger, where are your parents?" he asked her.

"Why?" Hermione asked him, looking at him suspiciously.

"I need to know where your parents live, Miss Granger. They are in danger," he said evenly, "I will arrange protection for them."

"In danger? How? Why? Shouldn't we tell Dumbledore?" she asked, standing up now and pacing.

"No!" the Professor hissed. "No. Don't tell Dumbledore," he said shortly.

"Why?" Hermione asked. She had a stubborn look to her.

Snape sighed. The witch wasn't stupid. He would have to come clean. Partially.

"Miss Granger, what I am about to tell you can go no further. I need you to give me a Wizard's Oath not to reveal me as the source of this information, ever, in any manner." he said in a low voice.

A Wizard's Oath would not only keep Hermione from revealing Snape as her source, but it would also lock the memories of their exchange in her mind, unable to be revealed by veritaserum or drawn out into a pensieve.

With her parent's lives in the balance, Hermione quickly agreed and magic swirled about them, sealing her Oath.

"Miss Granger, others are aware of who you are becoming, and want your powers for their own. They are willing to do anything to keep you under their influence or bring you to their side. If they cannot do this, they will attempt to kill you before you come to full power. Have no doubt about that. You can trust no one, Miss Granger. No one," he said.

"Not even you, Professor?" she asked, blinking her amber eyes at him. He looked at her speculatively.

"Miss Granger, I'm afraid that I would most definitely be interested in influencing a Primordial to reach my own ends," he said honestly.

Hermione considered him.

"And what are those ends, Professor. World domination?" she asked, her eyes narrowed.

The Potions Master gave an ugly chuckle.

"No, Miss Granger. Those two words are at the bottom of all my misery. My ends are simple. To be free of both Dumbledore and Voldemort. Out of the middle of their power struggle. They are the ones would want to control the world. I just want to live in it, free to do as I please."

Hermione cocked her head at him.

"That's really all I want too, Professor. To be free to live as I want," Hermione said.

Snape scowled at her.

"No one will want that, Miss Granger. No one has ever wanted that for you since you arrived in the wizarding world. At first it was your formidable mind that was to be harnessed to think outside the limited box of the magical world. You were to create spells and weapons to destroy the opposition…" he said. Hermione interrupted him.

"Voldemort," she said, almost in a whisper. Snape shook his head.

"The opposition, Miss Granger. Currently, Voldemort is the main opposition, but there are others as well. Less flamboyant, but still opposition. The Ministry, the Wizengamot , the International Consortium of Wizarding States among others…" Snape said. "The same institutions that Voldemort would remove if he were to come to power."

Hermione's amber eyes widened.

"But that would mean Dumbledore…but no, he is on the side of the Greater Good!" she exclaimed.

Snape interlaced his fingers.

"Miss Granger, sometimes the lines between good and evil become blurred, and they become one and the same. Dumbledore has the Order and Voldemort has his Death Eaters. The mode of operation is surprisingly similar, except you do not hear about all of the Order's exploits as you do the Death Eater's. I am privy to both sides and know how they operate. To claim Dumbledore's "good" is better than Voldemort's "evil" is something I cannot do."

Hermione absorbed this, her brow wrinkled. Dumbledore wanting to rule the world? It was just too crazy. He was the Headmaster. He was the one spearheading the fight against Voldemort.

"I find this hard to believe, Professor. But still, I need your word you will not tell Dumbledore about my powers," she said.

"He already knows you idiot girl!" Snape snapped at her, "Aren't you listening to me? How can you be so intelligent and so fucking stupid at the same time? And if you think he's going to allow you to leave for a year, you are insane!"

The Potions Master struggled to regain his composure as the witch stared at him.

"Miss Granger, your only hope in surviving to become a full-fledged Primordial is to pretend to go along just as you have done, developing your powers in secret and not letting anyone know how far you've come along. Not even your friends."

"Harry already knows. And Ron will too in a bit," Hermione replied.

Snape shook his head. Well, Potter and Weasley did manage to keep an extraordinary amount of secrets. They might not purposely divulge Hermione's secret.

"I suggest you bind both of them under a Wizard's Oath as soon as possible," he said, rubbing his forehead again, then looking at her with bright eyes.

"Your parents need protection, Miss Granger," he said again. "Tell me where they are."

Hermione scowled. "How do I know you won't tell Voldemort?"

The Potions Master stared at her.

"I intend to tell Voldemort," he said shortly.

"What?" said Hermione, staring at the Potions Master as if he were crazy.

"Miss Granger, the reason I was summoned today is because Voldemort sensed your growing powers. He knows you are a Primordial and wants me to bring you over to the dark side, by whatever method."

Here the Potions Master's eyes took on a decidedly lustful look, before returning to the steady dark gaze he fixed the witch with. Hermione felt a throb in her belly, knowing the method he meant. The Potions Master continued

"My telling you this has made my life worthless. But Voldemort wants you as badly as Dumbledore. To get in your good graces he would not harm a hair of your parents' heads. He would protect them. That is what I am proposing. That you accept his protection for your parents. That way he will not be scheming on other methods to win you over or kill you, and you will have time to learn to control your powers. Plus, you will see that all is not what it should be with the Headmaster when the inevitable attempt on your parents' lives occurs."

Hermione looked at the Professor, her eyes full of suspicion.

"Why are you trying to help me, Professor? You're an evil man. You are caught between Dumbledore and Voldemort, but you still are a dark wizard. You are risking a lot telling me these things," she said.

"You are under a Wizard's Oath, Miss Granger. What I tell you will go no further. And as I told you before, I am not beyond trying to influence a Primordial. You wish to be free, and so do I. Ultimately, the only way you are going to be free is to end this asinine power struggle between Albus and Voldemort permanently, or both will be trying to claim you or kill you for the rest of your life. As a Primordial, this will be within your power to do, if you have some direction. My assisting you is not for any other reason than I want to be free, and to manipulate you into a position where you can rid me of both of them," he said evenly.

"So, you want to manipulate me too," she said.

"Yes, but the only difference is, you know it Miss Granger," he replied, "my manipulations are not for control or gain, but for freedom."

Hermione considered this. Of the three wizards who would use her for their own ends, the Professor's agenda was the one most closely aligned with her own. His hatred of both Dumbledore and Voldemort was insurance that he would not double-cross her, she hoped. He had no morals, no conscience, but he was a self-serving bastard, and in this case that was his strength and what compelled her to say what she did.

"I'll accept the Dark Lord's help," she said, "tell him to protect my parents, and that I will be very grateful for his protection."

Snape looked at her in surprise for a moment. Then his dark eyes slitted.

"A very Slytherin decision, Miss Granger," he said silkily, knowing he had been accepted as a kind of partner in her deception. She had turned, not necessarily to evil, but at least to serving her own self-interests. This was a milestone.

"I know," Hermione said with a slight, dark smile. Then she told Snape her parents' address.

* * *

Three days after his talk with Hermione, Snape was summoned before the Dark Lord. He was an impatient wizard and the idea of having a Primordial serving him had captured his imagination. Lucky for Snape he had excellent news to give him about Hermione's request for protection for her parents.

"The witch has rebelled against Dumbledore and wishes to leave his service for a year to spend time with her family before taking up with the Order, my Lord," Snape told the dark wizard.

Voldemort considered this.

"Dumbledore will never allow that. Especially since her powers are growing," the Dark Lord said thoughtfully, "if it were me, I would take her family out of the equation so she would be dependent on me, and come to me for comfort and solace."

"Exactly my Lord. And we know that Albus is a ruthless wizard when it comes to what he wants," Snape said smoothly, "You and he have similarities in your methods of operation, though his deeds are not publicized as yours are."

"If only they were," Voldemort said wistfully, "then the wizarding world would see we are both two sides of the same galleon."

His red eyes shifted to Snape.

"Is the witch aware of the danger to her family?" he asked.

"I have implied it sir, and she has asked me to make a request of you," Snape said, his stomach tightening a little.

"A request? Of me? The Dark Lord?" Voldemort replied, sitting up in his throne with interest now. "Surely she knows I am of the darkness."

Snape nodded. "Yes, my Lord. She has been taught of your evilness her entire tenure at Hogwarts. And she is close to Harry Potter sir," Snape said.

"Close to Potter, yet would still make a request of me? Interesting, Severus. What is her request?" the Dark Lord asked, his red eyes glowing.

"That you will provide protection for her muggle parents. She is not fully convinced that Dumbledore would harm them, but she does not want to take the chance. She is not sure whom to trust now that she knows she is a Primordial. Her powers are still developing and she is unable to protect her family herself. This is a great opportunity to do her a service, my Lord…a service that she would be obligated to return," Snape said persuasively

"Yessss," hissed Voldemort

"When Dumbledore goes for her parents, and your Death Eaters save them, it will result in two things," Snape continued smoothly, knowing he had the Dark Lord eating out of his cauldron. "Her realizing Dumbledore's treachery, and seeing you as her parents' savior. He will no longer be able to influence her, and she will not join the Order."

"And she will be quite grateful to me," the Dark Lord added, smiling evilly.

"Yes, my Lord," Snape agreed. This was going well.

The Dark Lord rose from his throne and descended the small steps to stand before the Potions Master. He placed one reptilian hand on his shoulder.

"It seems this witch has a bit of darkness in her after all, if she would use my services against her beloved Headmaster. Where do her parents' live, Severus?" he asked the Potions Master, his red eyes locked to his face.

"Muggle London, my Lord," Severus replied, repelled by the Dark Lord's proximity. He smelled of death. The Potions Master's nostrils were full of his sickening scent. He fought back the gag that threatened to rise.

"Tell her the Dark Lord will gladly provide her family protection. That no harm will come to them. They will be watched over night and day," Voldemort lisped. "Tell her she has the Dark Lord's respect and favor, and if she is ever in need, I will use all my powers to help her. Tell her thissss, Severussss," the Dark Lord said, his excitement causing him to hiss intensely. His snake-like tongue flickered out, barely missing Snape's lips.

"Yes, my Lord. I will give her your message," he said as the Dark Lord returned to his throne.

"You have done well, Severus. Extremely well. Are you still engaging her?" the wizard asked, cocking his head.

"I have not touched her since her deflowerment, my Lord," Snape replied, "she has not yet evidenced a need for me."

"I want you to take her again soon. She appears to have a liking for you. I want it exploited," the Dark Lord said, looking at the Potions Master levelly. "But remember who it is you are shagging, Severus. You are honored above all others to be able to pleasure a Primordial. I envy your position…"

The wizard raised his wand and Snape braced himself.

"Crucio!" the Dark Lord spat.

Once again Snape suffered the torment of the Cruciatus curse wracking his body, his limbs folding in on themselves painfully as he shuddered and buckled under the pain, losing all control of his bodily functions. Finally Voldemort let him go.

"Just don't let it go to your head," Voldemort lisped, gazing on Snape's still shuddering body.

* * *

For the following weeks, Hermione conducted herself as she always did, fulfilling her responsibilities, keeping up her grades, and making her rounds. After talking with Snape, she sought out Harry and secured a Wizard's Oath from him, and when Ron was finally released from the infirmary, he too was clued in quickly, because the red-hair wizard was spoiling to take Hermione to task. He heartily believed she had transfigured her on purpose, but once he took the Oath and the enormity of what was happening to his friend became apparent, he forgave her immediately. Ron was an ass most of the time, but he loved and supported Hermione when the chips were down.

"A Primordial? Wow, Hermione. That's bloody amazing! I always knew there was something strange…"

Here Harry glowered at the red-haired wizard

:…er…special about you." Ron finished, correcting himself.

Hermione grinned at him, shaking her head.

Ron looked from Hermione to Harry and back again.

"You can help defeat Voldemort," he said, his eyebrows raised at this revelation, "Harry won't have to take him on alone now."

Harry looked at Ron.

"I might not have to take him on at all, if Hermione comes to full power before the final battle," he said, "She'll be able to take him out with no problem. He won't be able to touch her. No one will," Harry said, looking at Hermione proudly.

Hermione shifted a bit guiltily. She hadn't told either wizard about her arrangement with Voldemort. There was no way they would have understood it. They were close, but she was sure their friendship could not survive her association with the Dark Lord.

"Yes, but I think I'm still a long way from consciously controlling my powers. Things are still happening when I become emotional about something. The other day, Dean Thomas and Sean both got stuck in place when I told them not to run through the common room, and they didn't listen to me. They were stuck like that for ten minutes," she said, smirking a bit at the memory.

She didn't deny doing it to them. The stricken wizards didn't see how she did it however, and believed it had been wandlessly. She let them think what they wanted. Needless to say they made sure they didn't exceed a quick walk through the common room after that.

And poor Professor Snape. Although they had established a rather uneasy association, the Potions Master received dose after dose of Hermione's unrestrained powers, though nothing that harmed his actual person. Dried out quills and powdered ink abounded. He suffered through completely erased blackboard notes, blank pop quizzes, every button on his highly buttoned robes becoming unfastened, and his chair sliding out from under him when he went to sit down after unfairly deducting points from Gryffindor. He went down with a thud, but not one student dared to laugh until far from his classroom. Hermione gave him a little shrug as he scrambled to his feet and glowered at her.

One morning while chewing her out about helping another student, he lost his voice. It was several hours before it returned and he had to cancel his next two classes. And after giving Hermione an undeserved grade, he found all the homework parchments he laboriously graded the night before, clear and unmarked, as if he had never touched them. He was forced to mark them all again.

The Professor was extremely miffed about being the focus of Hermione's uncontrolled powers, but realized that the magic she was performing was unconscious. He decided that it would be best to continue his snarky treatment of the witch in the hopes that one day she would be able to take his meanness without a magical rebuttal. Hermione, on the other hand, as badly as she wanted to subdue the magic she was emitting, was really enjoying making Snape pay for all his snarkiness, past and present.

A breakthrough finally came when he deducted fifty points from Hermione for arriving to class five minutes late, and nothing happened to him. Not a single dried quill or erased blackboard. At the end of class he called her to his desk.

"So Miss Granger, no little magical digs today? I am surprised," he said. "I thought maybe a strong wind might rush through the classroom and sweep away all my parchments, or something equally vile," he said, his eyes glittering at her. But he didn't look as foul as usual.

Hermione shrugged. "I just accepted your unfairness," she said shortly, though inwardly she was elated no magic had manifested. She really had accepted the point loss, but there was something else. Her dreams about the Potions Master were starting to return. Her amber eyes shifted away from him uneasily.

The Potions Master searched her face with his black eyes.

"Miss Granger, is there something you need to tell me?" he asked her silkily.

"No," she said a bit too quickly.

The Potions Master sat back in his chair, letting his eyes sweep across her.

"Are you sure, Miss Granger?" he said in a low voice.

Her eyes met his, rather defiantly.

"I am positive sir. Now may I go?" she snapped.

"Certainly," he said smoothly, watching her as she turned to leave.

"Five points from Gryffindor," he added softly.

She spun on him, frowning.

"Why?" she demanded.

He considered her.

"I think you know why, Miss Granger," he purred.

Hermione looked at him a moment, then hurried to her desk, grabbed her backpack, and quickly exited the class. Snape noticed there had been no magical reaction to the point loss. It seemed Miss Granger was beginning to bring her emotional reactions under control. He smirked. But what about her physical reactions? No, she was still a slave to them. The Professor was very aware her need was on her again, and she wanted him. This time, he wouldn't pursue her or manipulate her to be in his presence. This time the Primordial would have to come to him herself.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading. More to come. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Inside the Blackest Heart Part 7**

Two days later, Hermione found herself patrolling the dungeon corridors again, her last area to check before retiring. She checked the niches and secret rooms and found one snogging couple, who she assigned detention and sent back to their Houses, points intact. She walked past Snape's office quickly, did a quick scour of the Slytherin area, then hurried back up the hall, past his door, swiftly re-checking the niches and rooms before heading toward Gryffindor Tower and the safety of her room. She didn't see the Potions office door open and Snape emerge, watching her as she beat a quick retreat out of his domain. The Potions Master started to follow her, but hesitated, then returned to his office, scowling. He had promised himself he would not pursue her, though her need for him was growing more and more apparent by the way she was reacting to him in the classroom.

To those not acquainted with their history, which was practically everyone, Miss Granger simply seemed preoccupied, but to Snape every time those amber eyes dropped when he looked her way, every start of her body when he passed close by, every heavy-lidded daze she went into listening to him lecture, and every weak-kneed response to his telling her off was screaming "do me." And he wanted to. He wanted to see if there was any difference in her now that her powers were emerging. An added impetus was the fact that she was no longer an ordinary little piece, but a Primordial. No wizard had touched a Primordial in over twelve hundred years. He knew there was an added danger to taking the witch, he didn't know how her powers would manifest if she were in pain/pleasure or on the brink of orgasm. She might accidentally maim or kill him. But there might be some additional pleasure afforded him via her responses, some magical enhancement of the act too. Snape was used to danger. Caught between the tempestuous nature of the Dark Lord, and the machinations of the Headmaster, he faced possible death every moment. To die on top of a Primordial wouldn't be the worst way to leave the world.

Hermione returned to her room, feeling flushed. She was experiencing the tingling desire that had led her to the Potions Master brutal arms the last time, and trying her best to curb it. She was sure he knew her need for him was growing. She was sure he took those five points from her because she did not tell him she wanted him to engage her again. Yet if he knew she wanted him and his twisted possession, why didn't he act on it like he did last time and assign her detention so she could go to him under feigned duress? His manipulation had made her surrender easier. He had required her presence, and took her choice away that last time. Now she ached for him and he didn't make a move. Hadn't he implied that Voldemort wanted him to be intimate with her? Didn't he know he was disobeying his Lord?

Hermione divestoed all her clothes and climbed into bed. She had decided it would be better to sleep naked than wake tomorrow morning with her nightgown stuck to her body because of her dream-induced climaxes. They felt good, but nowhere near as good as the orgasms the Professor gave her. He was right. In his case, reality was better than the dream. She could almost feel his pale, lean body flexing against hers as he held her down in some dominating position driving himself into her over and over mercilessly. Hermione let out a ragged breath at the thought of the Potions Master's ardor.

Class was getting difficult too. Her need had her visualizing what was under his severe robes, rather than listening to his instructions. When she did listen, it was mostly to the sensual timber of his voice rather than his actual words. And when he would snarl some nasty remark to her, she'd get wet, remembering his brutal bursts of temper when she didn't bend to his will fast enough. The dull ache in her lower belly was a constant presence now, and would flare whenever she saw him, remaining a glowing orb of lust burning inside her until he left her sight or class was over. It was getting to the point where seeing him was almost painful. The dreams were not enough, and neither were her fingers. She needed him.

Hermione rolled over and fell into an uneasy sleep. Once again she was in his study, his black eyes locked lustily on her. Once again she was sitting on his desk, and he penetrated her brutally deflowering her and consuming her roughly, claiming every inch of her body as his own. She relived the cycle of the dream, unaware that forces were gathering around her, coalescing, forming a kind of body, a nude replica of her own, but ethereal, not fully cohesive and ghost-like. Her pale double hovered over Hermione a moment, drifting down and lying horizontally above her. Hermione tossed in her bed, but did not wake, still locked in her erotic dream. A bit of golden light passed between the flesh body and the magical body. Her double drifted out of her room, through the common room and out into the halls. It began to descend, passing through the stairwells until it reached the main halls. It hesitated, turning in mid-air, its motions fluid, and pale curling hair flowing about its head as if underwater, then got its bearings and drifted toward the dungeons corridor.

* * *

Snape had stripped down and retired to his bed. He lay there, on top of the covers thinking of the Primordial, of Hermione and silent cursing her for not giving in to her urges and coming to him. He was rock hard because of his angry but lustful thoughts of the witch, and he was about to give in to taking it in hand when he felt a surge of power around him. He tried to sit up, and found he couldn't move. It was as if someone had cast the binding spell on him. But that was impossible. No one was here. His room was dark, but he became aware of a glow beginning to fill it. His black eyes shifted wildly about. He was frightened. The loss of control always was a great fear of his, and his heart was pounding as the glow intensified. Then he saw it. Miss Granger's double passing through his bedroom door, floating, drifting toward him. What the fuck was going on?

The pale form drifted over him, and lowered itself so he could see it clearly as it hovered. It was definitely the witch's double. Its eyes were a bit darker than the rest of it, and he watched as the pale orbs swept over him. The form reached out a ghostly hand and touched his chest. He felt his mouth release, and he groaned. The touch of the thing wasn't exactly physical but he felt a great pleasure where its hand connected. He watched it slide down his body, its hand trailing, leaving a path of bliss behind. The Hermione-double touched his erection, and if he could have moved he would have bucked off the mattress at the intense delight that shot through his shaft. He groaned again. It took its hand away and looked at him with a rather pleading expression on its face, a look of intense need and longing. Suddenly, the being lowered itself, straddling his body. Although it seemed to be a ghost, Snape's organ didn't care. It could move, and throbbed hungrily.

Snape was aware of a radiant warmth where the ghost connected with him. It was like the warmth of a living body minus the flesh. Like a life force. Was this Miss Granger's life force manifested? He didn't know or care as he was enveloped in heat. There was no wetness, but there was softness, and he gasped as the being began to ride him, waves of pleasure breaking over him and withdrawing, like an ocean flowing back and forth over a shoreline. Snape shut his eyes against the incredible, unearthly feeling spreading through his loins as the being increased its pace, rising and falling, its breasts bouncing as if it were a real woman, its mouth curled in a smile of pleasure as its pale eyes met his. Then it stiffened and Snape felt a shifting of consciousness, and he saw a naked Miss Granger asleep in her bed, but moving sensuously, her back arching as she climaxed powerfully with a loud cry.

The image of Hermione coming in her sleep disappeared, and the being moved off of him. Snape groaned in protest. He had not come. His balls were painfully tight while he throbbed for release. The being gave him a naughty half-smile and seemed to shrug its shoulders apologetically before drifting back through the closed bedroom door. The glow dimmed, and Snape found he could move again. Damn. He had just been used by…by…well, he wasn't sure what he had just been ravished by, but it looked like Miss Granger, and he knew for fact that the witch had just received an awesome orgasm while in her bed. It had to be a manifestation of her powers. She had wanted him and somehow, she managed to get him…rather selfishly too.

He had just had forced disembodied sex with a Primordial. And she had left him hanging.

He sat up on his elbows in his bed, looking down at his throbbing desire-swollen member. It looked as if it were about to explode, and felt like it too. Scowling, he fell back on the bed and wrapped his fist around his pulsing member. Working his hand feverishly he brought himself to climax, cursing Miss Granger as he came.

* * *

Hermione woke and stretched languorously. Again she found herself in a damp spot, evidence of another erotic dream. But oh, what a dream it had been. It wasn't a rehashing of the time she'd spent with the Potion's Master, but an entirely new and sensate one where she could actually feel contact. Hermione had come to him in his bed, straddled him as he lay there immobile, and rode him to an earthshaking climax. She found she had enjoyed the dream and her position of power over Snape. She liked being subject to his lust, but there was something to be said for being in charge too.

The climax had been very satisfying. Although she still felt the need for him, the bubble inside was much diminished, as if he had actually sated her. Feeling wonderful, she slid out of bed and scourgified her sheets as she had been doing for the past week. She then took a quick shower and dressed. She was famished. Grabbing her backpack, she headed for the Great Hall.

Ron and Harry were already seated and tucking into breakfast, Ron shoveling food into his mouth at an amazing rate. Hermione surmised he must have spent some quality time with Parvati by the way he was going at it, but then again, Ron rarely needed a reason to stuff himself to bursting. Good thing he had a fast metabolism, or he would have been as big as Hogwarts.

Hermione greeted the pair and slid between them. She immediately piled a huge amount of scrambled eggs and sausage on her plate and commenced to digging in. She was completely unaware of a pair of beetle-black eyes resting on her piercingly.

"She didn't even look toward the High Table," Snape thought angrily. Lately, Hermione always cast at least one longing glance at him before beginning breakfast. This morning, nothing. He knew why. Her disembodied rape of him had sated her. Yes. Rape. That's exactly what it was. Even if it wasn't her in actuality, she reaped the benefits of his body without permission and left him with an aching scrotum full of unreleased come. He was used to using women, not be used by them and his ego had taken quite a blow. He scowled at the witch. He had half a mind to snatch her out of the dungeon corridors tonight while she was on her rounds and just take her, Primordial or not, and make her pay heartily for her little late night visitation. He realized the visitation was an unconscious one, but that did nothing to quell the urge he had to ravage and release inside her hot, wet core. Before last night, her unmet desire for him was a distraction at best, and he wasn't saddled with an overpowering lust to do her like he was now. Snape was a vengeful man, and he rarely ever let what he considered a wrong go unpunished. He was determined to make her pay…tonight.

Hermione got a cold feeling in her belly at that moment, and looked up to see the Potions Master glaring at her. What was the matter with him? She shrugged her shoulders, chalking his glare up to the deep reservoir of snarkiness he was gifted with, and returned to her meal.

In Potions class, Snape was on Hermione like a niffler on galleons. He unfairly deducted a great number of points from her, tore up her homework assignment, and made her clean several cauldrons of rotten salamander innards without magic or gloves, while the rest of the class read an assigned chapter. There was not one magical repercussion from the witch, though she was mad as hell at him.

She was finishing up the last cauldron when the Professor dismissed the class and took his seat, pretending to mark parchments, knowing the witch would take him to task about his treatment of her. Sure enough, an irate Hermione marched up to his desk.

"Professor Snape! You purposely picked on me today. I didn't do anything to warrant cleaning those cauldrons. And you tore up my homework claiming it was unsuitable when you didn't even look at it! And the points…" she began.

"Miss Granger, how did you sleep last night?" the Professor asked him, his eyes glittering.

Hermione's eyes shifted a bit.

"I slept fine. Why?" she asked him, scowling.

"Have any interesting dreams?" he asked her silkily, his black eyes burning into hers so intensely Hermione felt her stomach flip-flop. He knew she had dreamed about him.

"Nothing out of the ordinary," she replied. Well, she did dream about him a lot lately, so it wasn't a total lie.

The Professor stared at her, a slight frown on his face.

"What did you dream last night, Miss Granger?" he asked her directly, "And I expect a truthful answer or I will deduct more house points," he snarled at her.

"Why is what I dream so important to you?" she countered, not wanting to tell him about riding his prone body.

"Ten points from Gryffindor," the Potions Master responded, "Care to make it twenty? Now answer the question, Miss Granger!"

"I dreamed about you," she muttered.

The Professor stood up and walked from around the desk and stood in front of her.

"Speak up! What did you dream about me? After what I've done to you Miss Granger, your shyness is annoying, senseless and stupid. Now tell me what you've dreamed," he said, leaning towards her. He wanted to shake her until her teeth chattered, and then he wanted to….

Hermione felt warmth spreading across her belly as she looked up into the face of the Potions Master. The Professor noticed the slight dilation of her pupils and rightly discerned she was getting turned on. He stepped closer so he was mere inches from her.

"Tell me what you dreamed, Miss Granger," he said in a low, soft voice. She went a little dreamy-eyed. This was too easy.

"I dreamed I came to your bedroom and had sex with you," she said, staring up at him. Gods, if he could just take her now. The Professor traced a long finger down her cheek, his black eyes hard.

"How did you have sex with me?" he asked her silkily. She shuddered.

"I was on top of you. You were laying on your back," she said as if hypnotized.

"And did you enjoy it? Did you come Miss Granger?" he asked a bit tightly, as if controlling himself.

"Yes," she said, her eyes still locked to his. "Touch me. Do something," she thought.

"And what happened after that?" the Potions Master pressed.

"Nothing. The dream ended," she replied. The Potions Master stepped back from her.

"Your climax, was it intense? More intense than your other dreams about me?" he asked her.

"Yes, it was. It seemed real, like I was with you," she replied, still under his influence.

The Professor scowled at Hermione, his black eyes flashing with anger and something else she couldn't read. Why was he so upset? It was just a dream. He knew she dreamed about him. Hermione couldn't understand his reaction.

"You're dismissed Miss Granger," Snape said, returning to his desk.

Hermione felt like a tankard of cold water had been thrown over her when he walked away. But the fire was still burning in her belly. She stood there. The Professor looked up at her.

"I said you may go, Miss Granger. Do I have to show you where the door is?" he asked snarkily.

"You are a bastard, Professor!" Hermione spat before she could help herself.

The Professor looked up at her calmly.

"As correct as your assessment of me is, Miss Granger, you just cost your House thirty more points," he said, his black eyes twinkling with malice.

Hermione groaned inwardly. She had cost Gryffindor almost one hundred points in one day. Her housemates were going to be livid. He was such a fucking prat. Why did it have to be him she was so attracted to? She spun on her heel, grabbed her backpack and stalked from the class.

"I'll see you after curfew tonight, Miss Granger," the Potions Master said, too softly for the departing witch to hear. "Then we'll discuss your 'dream' further."

* * *

Snape paced back and forth impatiently in his office. It was going on eleven o'clock and Hermione had not yet appeared to patrol the dungeons area. The witch never missed a patrol. Even ill, she dragged herself through the castle, rousting out rule breakers. Where was the witch?

Hermione had a busy night tonight. She had caught six couples, two snoggers and four shaggers. One couple tried to escape, fleeing in separate directions, pulling on their robes as they ran. Hermione was so shocked she dropped her wand.

"Stop!" she shouted at them, "Come back here!" She felt as if water were rushing through her and the two fleeing students froze in their tracks, turned and walked back to her, their eyes confused. Hermione was flabbergasted.

"What did you do?" asked the young man, still breathing heavily. "Did you cast the Imperius curse on me? If you did, I'm reporting you," he threatened.

Hermione looked at him.

"Of course I didn't cast the Imperious curse on you. That's an Unforgivable. I could be sent to Azkaban…and you two shagging is not worth going to prison for," she said, stooping to pick up her wand and pulling out her parchment pad.

The young woman frowned at Hermione.

"Well you did something. I was long gone," she muttered.

"And now you're back," Hermione snapped briskly. "Now, names?"

Hermione deducted twenty-five points from each of them and gave them each a week's detention with Filch for trying to run away. She sent them back to their houses. When they were out of sight, she leaned back against the wall. She had consciously used her powers to stop them and bring them back. She knew it was conscious, because she had never felt magic pouring through her before. It really did feel as if she were a conduit or pipe for the power. She was elated. Of course, there had been a need for her to use the power. She placed her wand on the floor and tried to summon it to her hand without the accio spell. Nothing happened. She still had a ways to go, but the Primordial power was starting to work for her. This was excellent.

In a happy state of mind she headed for the dungeons. All the write-ups had put her behind schedule, but it was well worth it to discover her awakening powers starting to listen to her commands. She checked each niche and room as she walked down the hallway. She passed Snape's office without a thought, she was so delighted at the progress she'd made. She checked the Slytherin area and was walking back up the hall when Snape's office door flew open. She was aware of a black form descending on her and being grabbed roughly in a bear hug then dragged back through the door.

Professor Snape held her crushed tight against his hard body, scowling down at her. The contact instantly set the young witch on fire.

"We need to finish something, Miss Granger," he said silkily, "if you are planning to rain your wrath down on me with your powers, I suggest you do it now."

He ground himself against her and waited. Nothing happened. She stood there quietly, trembling slightly and trying to draw breath, he was holding her so tightly. He loosened his grip a bit, so she could breathe.

"What…what do we need to finish, Professor?" Hermione gasped softly. The ache between her legs was growing in anticipation. He was going to relieve her.

He stepped back from her, his black eyes looking at her lustfully.

"For the past several days, Miss Granger you have been reacting to my presence like a hippogriff in heat. Of course, your distorted sense of decorum didn't allow you to come to me and ask me to shag you again. I would have granted your request. Instead, you did something else…" he growled.

"I didn't do anything," Hermione protested as he latched an iron grip on her arm and pulled her to his bookcase, which he opened by pulling out a tome. He dragged her into his study, let her go and gripped both her shoulders tightly.

"Describe my bedroom, Miss Granger," he said, looking into her face intently.

"I've never been in your bedroom," she said, "Only in my dream."

"Tell me what it looked like, in your dream then," he snarled. He was certainly angry.

Hermione tried to recall it.

"Well, you have a big four-poster bed, a wardrobe, a chest of drawers and a dresser. And a wooden chair Oh, and a picture on the wall. Nothing else. It was bare otherwise. The walls were all bare. And your bed had Slytherin colors on it," she said, concentrating hard. She hadn't realized she had taken in so many details of the dream.

The Potions Master looked at her hard for a moment, then grabbed her by the arm again and dragged her through a doorway off the study. The room was dark. With a wave of the Potions Master's hand a few torches lit and Hermione could see where she was. She gasped.

"Quite a detailed and accurate description for a mere dream, isn't it, Miss Granger?" he said harshly.

Indeed it was. Hermione stared at the Professor's bedroom in awe. It was set up exactly as it was in her dream.

"But…but how?" she began.

The Potions Master released his grip on her arm. There would be bruising there, he had held her so tightly.

"Apparently, Miss Granger, your unmet need for me found a way to express itself through your powers. Last night I was raped by a double of you," he said, watching closely for her reaction.

"What? Raped?" she gasped.

"Yes, raped Miss Granger. Sexually taken against my will and left high and dry," he said in a low voice.

"But I didn't do it," she said, "I didn't consciously come here and …and rape you, Professor," she said. "I didn't know anything about it."

"You dreamed exactly what happened, Miss Granger. And you climaxed from the encounter. Quite a fulfilling orgasm too, if I might say…since I witnessed it before your double vanished," he said, his black eyes glittering at her.

"Witnessed it," she said in a low voice. How was that possible?

"I was treated to seeing you orgasm in your sleep. You were naked, and you came. Shall I describe your bed to you? An ivory four-poster full-sized bed spread with silk sheets in Gryffindor colors," he purred. "And you had thrown the covers off you."

Hermione didn't know what to say. That was how her bed looked. She stared up at him.

"So…what are you going to do?" she asked him.

The Professor snorted.

"What do you think I'm going to do? I'm going to bring that dream of yours to a satisfactory close, for me that is," he said. "I noticed that your double appeared to enjoy having me at her mercy."

He moved his face close to Hermione's.

"Is that what you'd like? Do you want to dominate me, Miss Granger? Be in control? Treat me like a bitch, Miss Primordial? I assure you, I am nobody's bitch. I may be forced to servitude, but I have never given in. I have maintained my independence to the best of my ability on both sides. I assume your double is a reflection of your true self. It selfishly left me without letting me come. And actually smiled when it left me in that condition. I was forced to bring about my own release. Insult added to injury Miss Granger. There is a cruel streak in you that I would find appealing if it had not been directed at me.'

He stepped back from Hermione and waved his hand.

"Divesto!" he breathed. Hermione was instantly stripped naked. His eyes raked over her small, full figure. He swallowed and his lustful eyes hardened.

"Get in the bed, Miss Granger," he growled, "and if you disobey me, I don't care if you are a Primordial. You know what I'll do to you."

Sopping wet between her legs, Hermione climbed into the bed, sitting in the middle of it, looking at the Professor, her heart pounding at the angry look on his face. He divestoed his own clothing and stood before her, hard, lean and totally erect, his erection seeming to strain in her direction.

Without hesitation, the Potions Master climbed into the bed and lay down on his back, looking up at her.

"We are going to replay your dream, Miss Granger, but this time with a very different ending. If you have some secret desire to try and dominate me, you better take this opportunity to get it out of your system. Now straddle me," he commanded.

Hermione obeyed him, straddling his pale body, her tightness lowering itself on him. The Potions Master hissed.

"Damn," he breathed and sat up, pushing her so she fell to her back. He got to his knees and without ceremony spread her thighs and began to eat her out, his tongue lapping at her with long, rough strokes as he growled. Hermione tried to hold still, but couldn't. Yet the Potions Master's ardor was so powerful he didn't complain. He held her firm when her hips buckled and swallowed down her sweet, musky juices. Hermione gasped and wailed in pleasure as his hot muscle stimulated her nub and buried itself inside her, twisting and rolling. Finally Snape rose and looked at her, his lips glistening. He licked them.

"Still delicious," he said, then pulled Hermione up to her knees. He laid on his back and adjusted himself

"Straddle me again," he commanded.

Hermione, still breathing heavily, climbed on to his hard, lean body again, her thighs resting against his, his pulsing member caught between their bodies. Hermione felt like she could swallow him whole inside her, her sleeve was throbbing so achingly.

He looked at her.

"Yes, you want this Miss Granger. It is always so clear on your face," he breathed. "Go ahead, take it, Primordial." He bucked his hips pressing against her softness. Hermione gasped, her mouth dropping open as his shaft moved against her inner lips.

"Take it," Snape hissed, his hips moving impatiently beneath her.

Hermione rose and grasped the Potions Master's pulsing organ in her hand, once again marveling at how delicate but powerful it felt. He growled at her contact. Her breathing increasing she positioned his head at her entrance. Looking at him, and remembering his brutal beginning thrusts, she decided she would take him in slowly.

She lowered herself on him, sighing as his girth parted her then filled her bit by bit, his girth stretching her and soothing her with its welcomed silken hardness. Gods, he felt so good inside her. She eased herself down until she rested on his thighs again, his hardness pushing against her cervix deliciously. She groaned, her amber eyes unfocusing with pleasure.

Snape had watched her carefully lower herself on him, savoring his penetration. He had bit his lip against vocalizing his pleasure at feeling her hot, wet body swallow him, sheathing him in her pulsing softness. That would make her feel powerful, and he still wanted control. She began to move, sliding up and down the length of him, moaning softly, taking him in gently but fully. Hermione never had the chance to try anything on him the last time. She squeezed him experimentally, and he hissed as he felt her clutch over him. One pale hand came up to rest on her waist as his black eyes watched her. But Hermione was not looking at him, but down at where they were joined. She swiveled her hips, and the Potions Master bucked up thrusting into her reflexively, and she let out a little cry, and began to increase her speed and power, taking him in deeper and harder, gasping on the downstroke as she manipulated him inside her.

The Potions Master was fighting the urge to thrust, but lay there panting, his eyes rolling back as the witch began to bounce on him, losing control and riding him hard. Not remembering who she was shagging, Hermione leaned forward and gripped his shoulders to get more leverage, thrusting down on him so hard that his body was rocking beneath her. She was crying out now, her thrusts hard and deep, her amber eyes glowing with lust, her lip caught between her teeth as she watched his stiff organ disappear into her over and over, her buttocks bouncing against his thighs, and the bubble inside her building.

Snape watched her transformation as she pleasured herself and him. This was not the submissive witch he shagged last time, this was a woman who was going to get her own. She felt delicious, pounding herself on him roughly. She was almost as brutal as he was when trying to reach climax. Snape was groaning constantly now, unable to hide the pleasure he felt beneath her, his body jerking on her downstroke. He had never cared for sexual aggression in women, he felt they were trying to steal his thunder and pounded it out of them, but this was quite nice. It was a physical expression of just how much she wanted him, and she wanted him beyond him pounding her…it seemed she wanted to pound him too. He smirked, then gripped her waist tightly. He could feel the tightening tremors of her impending orgasm, and he planned to take over the dream when she climaxed

Hermione started to howl as she felt herself breaking apart and the hot clench and honey roll of her climax pulsing through her. As soon as he felt her heat wash over him, Snape began to piston into her, thrusting upward and pulling her down on to him with all his might, her howl turning to rhythmic screams of pleasure as he drove through her orgasm, his shaft sliding through her pulsing tightness as he murmured obscenities at her, egging her on to more pleasure.

Suddenly he flipped her over, and wrestled her legs to his shoulders. Lifting his hips high he plunged into her brutally, bouncing against her buttocks as he rose and fell, stroking her deeply, sliding her body up the bed with the force of his penetration, digging his toes into the mattress trying to plow through her convulsing body. She was screaming, but he could tell she was loving it by the way she wildly thrust her hips up at him, allowing him to dig deeper into her softness, slamming into her cervix and straining to go beyond it.

"This…is…how…that…dream…should have ended!" He growled against her ear as her head collided with the headboard. He looked down and watched his thickness bury itself between her thighs, squishing and glistening with her juices, and picked up speed, his hips blurring as he scoured every inch of the screaming, sobbing witch beneath him. He loved to make them cry. He felt her insides starting to clutch around him again, and he drove into her frantically, trying to catch that train she was on and reach the destination with her.

"Don't you come yet!" he snarled, "You wait for me!"

He ploughed into Hermione, who tried to hold back the bliss trying to burst inside her.

"Please come," she whispered.

Snape felt his balls tighten up at the two simple words the witch managed to wrangle out between her gasps and cries.

"Let go!" he howled as he rammed into her and released, his mouth falling open from the power of his ejaculation. Hermione exploded around him with a howl of her own, shuddering powerfully, feeling herself thrown up by a tidal wave of pleasure and carried on its crest to someplace unbelievably beautiful as wave upon wave of delight washed over her body. Snape dropped on her and crushed her to him, holding her tightly as he pulsed inside her and she pulsed over him, two joined souls sharing one shattering experience.

Snape lay folded over her, his breathing slowing, his member still inside her warm pulsing body when an image came to him, of Hermione standing in the middle of a brilliant glowing light…no…she was the one the light originated from, and the light expanded, covering all of Hogwarts, then bursting outward, covering the entire world in its glow, taking away every bit of darkness that defiled it. The Potions Master felt a great sense of peace settle over him. Then, the image and the feeling was gone. He started and quickly rolled off the witch, his eyes round, looking at her. He had seen a vision of what she would become when she reached full power. And it shook him.

Hermione lay with her hands still pressed to the headboard, her hair tousled, her eyes closed, her breasts heaving as she came down from her climax. The Potions Master continued to look at her, study her, trying to regain his composure before she roused herself. Her breathing evened out, and he realized she had fallen asleep in his bed. He frowned at her for her audacity. Still she was asleep and in no condition to return to her room in her exhausted state. He'd let her sleep for a while, then kick her out.

The Potions Master roughly shoved her over to the left side of the bed. Hermione groaned, curled into a fetal position, and continued to sleep. He looked at the sleeping witch with glittering eyes and scowled, then turned over and faced away from her. He felt uncomfortable forced to lie on one side of his bed. This was his bed. He had never shared it with anyone. He turned and looked at Hermione again. She looked almost angelic, her hair falling softly around her face, which had a slight glow.

Snape snorted. She would glow. He had just given her two amazing orgasms after all. He turned back over, trying to get comfortable. Normally he lay splay-legged and relaxed in the center of the bed, his long limbs extended comfortably. Shit. After a few minutes of tossing and turning, the Potions Master drifted off into an uneasy, uncomfortable sleep.

* * *

Snape awoke aware of being wrapped around something warm. He opened his black eyes and realized with horror that Miss Granger was still here. He turned his head and looked at the time. It was a quarter to seven in the morning. Shit! She had stayed the whole night. Thank goodness it was Saturday. The witch's back was curled against him, her buttocks pressed into his loins, and he was spooned around her. Gods. This was not good. But then his tool woke up. Maybe this was good.

Hermione was sound asleep when the Potions Master thrust hard into her, wrapping his arms around her body and holding her securely in place as he stroked her. Hermione woke with a scream as he tore into her, grunting lewdly, taking advantage of her presence. It was rare he got this kind of relief for his morning hard-on, and he was enjoying it.

"Professor!" Hermione panted, "What are you doing?"

"Shagging you, you silly chit," he panted back at her, speeding up as he felt release coming.

He gave Hermione several more deep thrusts then stiffened, pushing himself in her as far as he could and releasing with a groan. It hadn't lasted long, but it was good. For him at least. Hermione hadn't come this time. He pulled out of her with a sigh. Hermione moved away from him and rolled on her back, her head turned toward him.

"What time is it?" she asked him as his breathing slowed. She felt used, and her voice reflected it, much to the Potions Master's delight. Hell, he had been left hanging. Why not her?

"It is time for you to get dressed and get out, Miss Granger," he replied, rolling out of the bed and walking into the bathroom. Hermione heard him take a long, powerful piss. Then he walked back out and looked at her.

"Still in my bed, Miss Granger? Out! Now!" he said, reaching over and grabbing her by the wrist and yanking her out. She landed on the floor and looked at him scowling.

"I'm going," she said, retrieving her wand and scourifying herself. Her hair was a mess.

"Do you mind if I use the loo?" she said to him, frowning.

The Potions Master started to tell her to hold it, but shrugged and gestured toward the bathroom with exaggerated gallantry. She snorted and walked into the bathroom, Snape's eyes on her buttocks. He felt a little throb below.

"No, that's enough indulgence," he told himself.

Hermione was taking a little too long in the bathroom so he walked in to find her brushing her hair…with his brush.

"What do you think you're doing?" he snarled, walking up to her menacingly, "that's my brush."

Hermione looked at him calmly as she continued to brush her hair.

"You can't expect me to walk through Hogwarts with my hair tangled up like a rat's nest, do you?" she replied.

"If I remember correctly, you did that for six years," the Potions Master said snidely, watching his brush tame the tangles in the witch's hair.

"Five," she corrected, "I couldn't manage it then, and besides, I would have brought my own brush if I had known you were going to abduct me and have me spend the night."

"What? You think I WANTED you to stay here overnight?" he sputtered, amazed she'd assume anything so insane.

"Yes. Why else am I here then?" she asked.

"You are here, Miss Granger, simply because I fell asleep before I could kick you out," he retorted, his nostrils flared.

Hermione looked in the mirror. Her hair was relatively presentable now. She turned to look at him.

"I fell asleep before you did, Professor. You could have woke me up and made me leave. Why didn't you?" she asked him, her amber eyes leveled on his astounded face.

"I figured I'd let you recover a bit first," he said lamely.

Hermione gave him a little half-smile and walked out the bathroom. He followed her as she gathered her clothes together and got dressed.

"And I am pretty sure you were spooned around me this morning. That's how you got such easy access," she said, slipping on her panties.

The Potions Master's face grew black with rage.

"I was not 'spooned' around you, Miss Granger," he lied.

Hermione was putting on her bra.

"Really, so what do you call it?" she asked as she put on her blouse and started buttoning it.

"You had backed up to my side of the bed, and spooned into me," he said stiffly. It was true to a point. Hermione had been on his side of the bed when he woke.

Hermione pulled on her skirt

"It doesn't matter, Professor. I'm leaving now," she said, pulling on her robes and fastening them. She turned and let her eyes sweep over his naked body.

"I think you kind of liked being 'dominated' by me last night, Professor. Maybe you should give me more opportunities in the future. I bet you'd like being tied up," she said, exiting his bedroom, leaving him standing there, astonished.

He followed after her.

"I assure you Miss Granger, I would not like being bound and at your mercy," he said to her back as she walked toward the open bookshelf. He had forgotten to close it and to ward the office door. Anyone could have come in. How could he let the little chit distract him so much?

"Don't knock it 'till you try it, Professor," she said, rather seductively, shooting him a rather hot look before exiting through the bookshelf. It closed behind her. She must have pushed the book back in place.

The Potions Master stood there, staring at the closed entrance. Maybe he shouldn't have let her take the top last night. It seemed to have gone to her head. Ah, well. He'd stroke the notion of dominating him out of her system the next time he had her. Tied up? Him? Never. He'd never give her or any woman that much control. He headed back to his room, intending on taking a nice warm shower.

Tied up indeed. Hmph.

* * *

Hermione felt presentable enough to go directly to breakfast. She headed for the main hall. There were quite a few students heading for breakfast this early for a weekend. Then she remembered, it was a Hogsmeade weekend, so those who were going to visit the village were up early. Hermione walked into the Great Hall, and was immediately aware of students looking at her strangely. She straightened, and walked to the Gryffindor table. Ron and Harry were there, and both were looking at her quite seriously. She sat down between them.

"What's up, Hermione?" Harry said, giving her a small smile.

Hermione looked at him.

"I think maybe I should ask you that. Why is everyone looking at me and whispering?" she asked.

"A Ravenclaw claimed you cast the Imperious curse on him last night, Hermione," Ron said in a low voice. "You didn't did you?"

Hermione scowled at Ron.

"Of course I didn't. Don't be stupid, Ron. Anyone who casts an Unforgivable automatically alerts the Ministry, and Aurors apparate to the place the curse was cast," she said dismissively.

"Yeah, but…you can't apparate in Hogwarts," Ron countered.

"Then they would have come to the gates and been let in," Hermione said, reaching for a sausage. She was hungry. She took a bite of sausage and looked at Ron, scowling as she chewed.

"Ron, why do you always have to believe the worst about me? You're my friend. You're supposed to be on my side," she said. Ron had the decency to hang his head.

"You're right, Hermione. I'm sorry," he said.

Harry looked at the witch.

"So what did happen last night?" he asked Hermione.

"My powers worked for me!" she whispered excitedly. "The Ravenclaw and his girlfriend took off running when I caught them shagging, and I dropped my wand. I yelled after them, telling them to stop and come back, and they did. When I yelled at them I felt something like a powerful rush of water surging through me. It was awesome."

Both Ron and Harry looked at her with their mouths open.

"Wow, Hermione!" Ron said loudly, attracting even more attention.

"Ron! Ssssh!" both Harry and Hermione hissed at him.

"Sorry," Ron said sheepishly.

At that precise moment, the Great Hall went completely silent.

A tall shadow fell over the group of friends. Startled they looked up into the unsmiling face of the Headmaster. He stood there, looking down at Hermione.

"Miss Granger, we need to talk, now," he said soberly.

Hermione swallowed.

"Yes sir," she said, rising from the bench.

She followed him out of the main doors, just as Snape walked in the staff entrance. His sharp black eyes quickly saw the witch following the Headmaster, looking as if she were going to the gallows.

"What now?" he breathed as they exited the Great Hall.

* * *

A/N: More to come. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Inside the Blackest Heart Part 8**

Hermione trailed behind the Headmaster as they entered the Main Hall. Albus silently walked up to the floo, removed a bit of floo powder from the box on the mantle and threw it into the flames.

"My office," he said. The flames turned green. He stepped back.

"After you, Miss Granger," he said.

Hermione stepped through the flames, followed closely by the Headmaster. She emerged in the Headmaster's office, greeted by a welcoming trill from Fawkes. The bird fell silent when Albus entered behind her. Hermione noticed this, and remembered that the Phoenix has stopped singing last time she was in the office and the Headmaster appeared. This was strange. The Phoenix used to always sing in the Headmaster's presence, even when he had visitors, though the bird kept it low. Now, nothing.

Hermione took the armchair in front of the Headmaster's desk. She looked at Fawkes closely. The bird was not as bright as she used to be. In fact, she looked a bit bedraggled for a Phoenix. Her tail drooped and her bright red plumage was washed out. She didn't look old enough to be moving toward burning time, when she would burst into flame and die, then be resurrected from the ashes. Hermione felt a stab of sadness for the magnificent bird. Something was definitely wrong here.

Albus took his seat behind his desk. He took off his glasses, reached into his drawer and pulled out a small cloth. He wiped the half-moon lenses, placed the cloth back in his desk and put his glasses back on. He reached for a small plate full of lemon drops. He offered Hermione one.

"Lemon drop Miss Granger?" he asked her.

Hermione had heard a rumor once that Dumbledore's lemon drops were dosed with veritaserum.

"No thank you sir," she replied, shaking her head.

The Headmaster withdrew the plate. Hermione noticed he did not take one himself, which was also unusual. She sat back in the chair, waiting for the Headmaster to address her. She knew it was about the two students she stopped last night.

"Miss Granger, last night you apprehended two students out after curfew, correct?" the Headmaster asked.

"Actually, I apprehended twelve students last night, sir," Hermione replied.

"Ah, a good night then, I gather," Albus replied smiling at her.

"That depends on who you ask, Headmaster, me or the apprehended students," she replied evenly. She was on her guard. Something about the Headmaster seemed a bit off to her. Maybe it was the lack of twinkle in his eyes.

"Well, I am speaking concerning two students. A Ravenclaw boy and a Hufflepuff girl. Both sixth years," he continued, looking at her intently. "The young wizard claims you used the Imperius curse to stop them from getting away, Miss Granger. Quite a serious charge."

The Headmaster knew if Hermione had cast an Unforgivable, its magical signature would have immediately alerted the Ministry, and Aurors would have been at the castle gates immediately. But he had to broach the subject somehow. Miss Granger wasted no time pointing this out.

"So," said Albus, looking at her searchingly, "What did happen last night, Miss Granger?"

Hermione looked the Headmaster in his eyes.

"When I found them, they started running. I yelled at them to stop and come back, and they did. I didn't find anything odd about that. I just thought they rethought what they were doing and decided just to take the punishment. I didn't find anything strange about common sense," she said smoothly.

The Headmaster looked at the young witch in front of him. He didn't believe her.

"So why do you think the wizard would make up such a thing, Miss Granger?" he asked her.

"I don't know sir. Maybe he was trying to get out of the detentions he was assigned. Or maybe he didn't want to admit he got scared and bitched up…I mean gave in. Sorry sir. Or maybe he, like a lot of other students, wants to make it hard for me to do my job. They all resent me, you know. Always being the Headmaster's watchdog," she said before she realized it, and clasped her hand over her mouth. Then she said, "I'm so…so…sorry sir."

Dumbledore sat back and looked at Hermione. She was changing. A year ago she would have never even thought such a thing, much less said it. And the way she said it, with so much resentfulness.

"Miss Granger, you serve a very important role in this school, helping to maintain order. Plus, you are developing skills that will serve you well in the Order. As far as the students resenting you, you must realize that they resent any authority, even when that authority is working toward their benefit," he said to her, his fingers drumming his desk restlessly. He had moved off the topic of what happened last night. She was feigning to have no knowledge of anything strange occurring.

The Headmaster gently tried to probe her mind, and felt a wall slam down immediately. When had she learned occulmency? But she hadn't reacted outwardly to his attempt at legilimency. If she were an Occulmens, she was exceedingly talented. If she wasn't, this could be a manifestation of Primordial power.

"Headmaster, sometimes I get tired of being the one who enforces the rules. Sometimes I wish I could just be a normal student, and live my own life," she said honestly.

The Headmaster quailed inside.

"Miss Granger, you are not nor have you ever been a normal student. You are the most brilliant witch to have passed through the halls of Hogwarts in fifty years. Life has made you more than 'normal' Miss Granger. You are extraordinary, and to allow you to live a normal life would be a waste of your talents and intelligence. You are a resource, my dear, and one of a kind. The wizarding world needs you, and I need you." the Headmaster said, in a manner that he thought was persuasive. But he had made a grave error.

"Did he say "to allow" me to live a normal life?" Hermione thought, "Does that mean he won't?"

"But I have needs too, Headmaster," she replied, letting his comment pass.

"Yes, I know Miss Granger, but sometimes the needs of the many supersede the needs of one individual. You were born to serve the 'greater good.' You have a great destiny, Miss Granger. Trust me to guide you to it," the Headmaster said, his blue eyes meeting her amber ones.

Hermione's vision came back to her, of being bounced across the landscape of Hogwarts until she was ripped apart. Was that the destiny the Headmaster had in mind for her, to be a resource for others to use until she had nothing left to give?

"Headmaster, you have guided me all my life here in the wizarding world, and I am grateful for it. But once a person reaches adulthood, the responsibility of living falls squarely upon the individual. I cannot be led for the rest of my life, Headmaster. You have prepared me, that is all you can do. I have to start making decisions for myself, and finding my own way through the world. I don't mind being of service to others, but there has to be limits. I also need time for myself, and I need to decide just how I will be of service, not let others decide for me."

Hermione took a breath and continued.

"The needs of the many are important sir, but how can I be of service to others if I don't know who I am or what I am capable of on my own? I'm only eighteen and I have everything in my future planned out for me by you, sir. It's too much. I need to decide my own future, Headmaster. I'm sorry if that disappoints you, but there it is." Hermione said, relieved that she finally told the Headmaster what she was feeling.

Dumbledore stared at her. He was watching all his plans for Hermione going down the drain. She was rebelling against everything now, wanting to decide for herself how to serve, make her own decisions. She couldn't do it. He had to slow her down, distract her from the path she was trying to take, make her need him. It was time to take matters in hand.

"I understand, Miss Granger. Every fledging wants to spread its wings, even though it risks breaking its neck in the fall," he replied, "You have a right to want to spread your wings."

Hermione got a very cold feeling about the Headmaster's analogy. She noticed he said she had a right to 'want' to spread her wings, but not a right to spread them.

"I presume you will be making decisions during your year with your parents?" he asked her.

"Yes sir, that's what I plan," she replied, "they have always been supportive of my choices, and given me the freedom to make my own decisions."

Dumbledore nodded.

"Very well, Miss Granger. I am glad you were straightforward with me about your feelings. And don't concern yourself about the rumors with the couple last night. I'm sure it will blow over. Thank you for taking this time to talk with me," he said benignly.

Hermione knew this was a dismissal. She rose from the armchair.

"You're welcome Headmaster," she replied, "Good-bye sir." She walked toward the floo.

"Good-bye, Miss Granger," the Headmaster replied. He was gripping the edge of his desk so tightly his knuckles were turning white.

Hermione stepped through the floo.

Albus' demeanor changed immediately. She was trying to slip away from him. He knew how to bring her back into his influence. He knew also that her powers were manifesting and she was exhibiting conscious control. He didn't have much time. He had to secure her before she became a full-fledged Primordial. Before she graduated, he had to make sure Hogwarts was the only place she could call home.

* * *

Hermione emerged from the main hall floo to see Severus hovering like a big black bat by the stairwell, anxiously looking up from time to time and pacing, his black robes billowing. Curious as to what he was doing, she walked up behind him.

"Professor?" she said.

Snape whirled around.

"Where did you come from, Miss Granger?" he asked her.

"From the floo. I just left the Headmaster's office," she said.

Snape caught her by the arm.

"Come back to my office with me," he said, pulling on her. Hermione resisted.

"After the way you treated me this morning? Dragging me out of your bed? I don't thin…" she said angrily.

"I don't want to shag you. I want to talk to you. The halls are not the best place to do that, Miss Granger," he half snarled, dragging her along. Finally Hermione began to walk quickly alongside of him as they turned down the corridor that led to his office. The Potions Master was silent as they walked, his face set in a scowl.

They came to his office. He unwarded the door with a wave of his hand, opened it and pushed her through. He followed behind, closing the door, warding it and putting a silencing charm around it.

Hermione took the uncomfortable chair in front of his desk as the Professor swooped around it and took his seat in the comfortable swivel chair. His black eyes locked on hers.

"What did the Headmaster want with you?" he asked her.

"He wanted to talk to me about a rumor. I was accused of putting an Imperious curse on two students last night," she said.

"An Imperious curse. That's ridiculous. Albus knows the Aurors would have been here immediately if you had done such a thing. What happened for that claim to have been made?" the Potions Master asked, his head cocked.

Hermione told him how the two students returned to her after she had yelled at them, ordering them to come back.

"Then a rush of power ran through my body, and they obeyed me. It was my first conscious use of the Primordial powers. But I couldn't use it to lift my wand from the floor. It worked because I had a need of it. It still wasn't quite by command," she said.

Snape looked at her. What ability. To make people obey with just a word. Albus had to have suspected that Hermione's power manifested.

"What else did you talk about?" he asked her. Just as she was about to reply, the Potions Master stood up, walked around the desk and stood in front of her.

"Let me look for myself, Miss Granger. With legilimency, " he said silkily.

Hermione nodded, relieved not to have to go over the whole conversation again. Snape gently placed his fingers against her temple. He didn't have to do this, but contact made for clearer images.

"Legilimens!" he said, then fell silent, his black eyes shifting back and forth as if reading a book. After a few minutes, he withdrew his hand, walked back behind his desk and sat down in his chair. He leaned back and stared at her thoughtfully.

"If you were male, Miss Granger, I'd tell you that you have the biggest balls I've ever seen. In all my years at Hogwarts, I've never seen anyone blatantly tell Albus they were not going to listen to him. And that is what you did today, Miss Granger. Good for you," he said. She had told him she didn't intend to follow anyone's directives but her own, but he didn't believe her fully. He grudgingly admitted to himself he might have had the wrong gist of the Gryffindor witch. His eyes flickered over her with a touch of respect, before resuming their normal, piercing mien.

"Of course you know you've made an enemy of the Headmaster," he commented.

"No…I don't. He seemed to understand what I told him and accept it," she said hesitatingly.

Snape scowled at her.

"Miss Granger, when I was in your mind, I not only saw your conversation with Albus, but your thoughts as well. You know there is something very wrong with him. And through his conversation, you determined that he wants to control you and continue to control you, no matter if you want to admit it to yourself or not," he said. Then he sighed.

"Now you will see how Voldemort will help you. Albus has no choice but to try to kill your parents," Snape said.

"What! Kill my parents? Not Dumbledore. I admit he might try something to get me back under his influence, but my parents?" she said, wanting desperately not to believe the Headmaster would do such a thing.

"If your parents are dead, you will have no one to run to for solace, comfort, guidance and protection but Albus," the Potions Master said brusquely, " and he will manipulate you using your grief. Most likely he will try to make the murder look as if Voldemort had killed them, cinching your hatred of the Dark Lord, and enlisting your desire for revenge to make you destroy the wizard. But don't worry. He will fail. But when he fails he will know your duplicity and mine. We are going to need to go hide out for a bit."

"Where will we go that he can't find us? The Order is everywhere," she said, trying not to let the despair inside her out. But Snape heard it in her voice.

"Not everywhere, Miss Granger," he said meaningfully.

Hermione looked at him in horror.

"You don't mean…" she gasped.

"Yes. Voldemort. He is your ally now after all. And after protecting your parents, he will expect you to be grateful…"

"And serve him, right?" she asked.

"Yes," Snape said shortly.

"But that's no better than the situation with Dumbledore " she said frowning.

"Hopefully you will come into full power soon. Then you can deal with both of them as you see fit, Miss Granger," Snape said. "But this will be your only option. Even if you move your parents, Dumbledore will realize you are on to him and maybe try to kill you, since he can't control you. And since you aren't a full-fledged Primordial, he has an excellent chance at succeeding," the Potions Master said.

Hermione dropped her head. How had life become so complicated so soon? And how did she find herself having to count on the kindness of the Dark Lord to protect her until she came into power?

Snape winced internally at the next thing he was going to tell her. He really hoped she saw his motives as being as self-serving as they really were. He had to keep her safe until he brought her before the Dark Lord. If anything happened to her, it would mean his own death for certain.

"Miss Granger, you will stay in my rooms until the attempt is made on your parents," he said, feeling like his mouth was full of cotton.

"What? Your rooms? I can't do that," she said, "What about McGonagal? What about my duties and classes?"

"Miss Granger, you are Head Girl, and you are the age of consent. While McGonagal might protest, she really can't stop you from staying here. My own position is secure as long as I am working for the Order. Once I take you to Voldemort however, the Order will be after me as well as Voldemort, thinking I have switched sides, when actually I have no side."

Hermione still looked doubtful. The Potions Master sighed and forced himself to speak gently.

"Miss Granger, when Albus is stopped from murdering your parents, he will return to Hogwarts looking either for me or for you, most likely to kill us both. If you are in your rooms, he can take you by surprise and you will be dead. If you are in my rooms, I can apparate us to the Dark Lord and safety before he gets to you. I have never revealed the Dark Lord's residence to Albus. He moves it quite frequently so it would do no good, and plus the Dark Lord would know I betrayed him. My mark guides me to his latest location. We will be safe with him.:

"As long as I cooperate," Hermione said.

"Yes. But the Dark Lord knows you are still not a full Primordial. So he will not rush you. He will merely attempt to seduce you to his service as your power grows. All you have to do is pretend to fall for it. He might try to use legilimency on you, but I saw Albus attempt it while in your mind, and he wasn't able to penetrate your thoughts. Were you practicing occulmency?" Snape asked the witch.

"I've studied it, but I didn't use it on the Headmaster," Hermione replied.

"Your powers must have protected you from the intrusion. I would think that magic would come to your aid when you are in danger, even if you aren't consciously calling it. We wizards use motive to work magic, so it is sensitive to the motives we have. It is quite possible that Albus' evil motives prompted magic to block his intrusion into your mind and keep him from gathering any information that might trigger him to destroy you," he said. "It very well might protect you from him when he comes after you, but I don't think you should take that chance.

"But in the case of Voldemort, it is important to make him believe you will help him destroy Albus, or he too will try to kill you before your full powers manifest. Do you understand me?" he asked the witch. Her head was hanging.

"Yes," she said softly.

"Good. So it is agreed that every night you will rush through your patrols and come to these rooms to sleep. It is highly unlikely Albus will try to attack your parents by day or if he does, he will not attack you by day in front of the whole school. He will come for you at night. I will have the rooms powerfully warded and alarmed. It will take time for him to bring them down and we will be notified in time to escape," the Potions Master said.

"I have a spell…" Hermione began, "A warding spell I created. As soon as one ward is taken down, another appears in its place. A different ward that has to be broken. It can be set anywhere from two wards to a thousand.

Snape kept a straight face. He didn't want to portray his amazement at her brilliance.

"Very well. It could be useful," he replied. Yes, damn useful.

Hermione stared at the Potions Master, her amber eyes locked to his steadily.

"Professor," she said soberly, "without your knowledge and guidance, I wouldn't survive this. Nor would my family."

Snape watched her as she stood up and walked around the desk. He swiveled his chair to face her.

Hermione continued.

"You are evil. You are hateful, sarcastic and cold. You are a rapist, a murderer, and a Death Eater by association, but right now you're the only knight in tarnished armor I have."

Then she kissed him.

* * *

Hermione pressed her lips softly against those of the Potions Master, who sat frozen with shock as he felt her mouth connect with his. Hermione drew back and straightened, a gentle look in her amber eyes.

Snape sat there a moment, staring at her. Then it hit the fan.

"MISS GRANGER! WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING!" he roared at her. Hermione was so startled she stumbled back and almost fell.

Snape leapt to his feet and shot over to her, trapping her back against his jars of…whatever they were, his face an inch from hers.

"Never. Ever. Do that again," he snarled, "I am not Potter or Weasley that you can turn me with a well-placed kiss, Miss Granger. I am only helping you to help myself. I have no emotional ties with you beyond my wish to see these two despots taken out. I do not KISS, Miss Granger, and I do not want or need your displays of affection to complicate an already complicated situation. I am no one's knight, Miss Granger. I do not rescue damsels in distress…if anything I cause them distress."

He looked down at her, his black eyes flashing.

"It is in my own self-interest to keep you alive, Miss Granger. Keeping your family alive is important only because their deaths would be a hindrance to you focusing on developing your powers. Grief would make you helpless. I am offering you my protection only because without it, your inexperience would have you dead in no time. I am risking everything because of you, but it is not because I particularly care for you. It is because I see you just as Albus and Voldemort see you. As a means to an end, Miss Granger, a resource, an answer to a problem that has plagued me for almost as long as you've been alive. But I am the only one of the three least likely to kill you if you don't do what I want. And that's only because if you do not take out Albus and Voldemort, your life will be forfeit by one or the other."

Snape took a step back from the frightened witch.

"Miss Granger, do not mistake my actions as being inspired by any tender feelings toward you. I am incapable of tender feelings. Years of abusing others has stripped me of that ability. I am truly cold and unfeeling. Your kiss, your concern and even your trust mean absolutely nothing to me. Even our intimacies are a carnal enjoyment and nothing more. I take advantage of your desire for me to exercise my baser nature and relieve my physical needs here at Hogwarts. Though you have the potential to become the greatest, most powerful witch in the world, to me you are a woman like any other woman. Your only possible function as such, is to bring me momentary pleasure."

Snape looked at Hermione hard for a moment. She was showing no reaction to his statement about her only real purpose for him. She already knew this. He had told her before. He continued.

"When you come to full maturity and are able to control the forces of magic, I will have no desire to reap the benefits of your power. I have no desire to have you become another Lord in my life. I have served two who promised me a share of power, but all they have ever given me is pain. I do not covet the power of others. The only power I wish for is the power to control my own life. And you, I hope will bring me that power. After that, I can subdue the world on my own terms. So, Miss Granger, no more wasted displays of affection. No more kisses. I am not the kind of man that wants, needs or tolerates them. And I do not want you in the state of mind where I am the focus of your affections. I help you and I shag you simply because it is in my own self-interest. Not because I care for you. Do you understand that, Miss Granger? I cannot make this any plainer to you."

Hermione looked at the Professor coldly.

"Yes. I believe I do understand, Professor. Forgive me for being human," she spat at him.

"Being human can be quite a liability in this case, Miss Granger. I suggest you refrain from it when dealing with me," the Potions Master said silkily, his black eyes glinting at her.

Hermione pushed herself off the jars and walked toward the door, her chin lifted stubbornly.

"I will remember that, Professor," she said in a chilly voice, "Now if you will undo the wards, I would like to leave. I want to see Harry before he leaves for Hogsmeade."

The Potions Master stood up, walked around his desk and proceeded to remove the wards on his office. Then he turned to her.

"You cannot tell Potter of our plans. He will not understand. He will think I am trying to trick you into shifting your allegiance to the dark side," the Potions Master said.

"I know that," Hermione replied, "I just want to try and prepare him for the things he will most likely hear about me when I leave," she said.

The Potions Master folded his arms.

"And how do you intend to do that, without revealing our plans?" Snape asked her.

"Harry trusts me. I can tell him to continue to do so, no matter what the outward appearances are," she said. At least that is what she hoped the young wizard would do.

Snape opened the door.

"Until tonight, Miss Granger," he said smoothly as the witch exited his office.

"Until tonight," she replied, shooting a small frown at him. Then she walked up the corridor.

* * *

Hermione found Harry in the Gryffindor common room lacing up his trainers. Ron wasn't with him. He was off with Parvati. They were going to Hogsmeade together. Ron had secured a room at the Three Broomsticks for some quality shagging. They wouldn't see him until tonight.

Hermione walked up to the sofa Harry was sitting on and sat down beside him, her face sober. Harry looked at her expression and straightened immediately.

"Hey Hermione," he greeted her, then went right to the foremost question on his mind. "What did Dumbledore want?"

"To talk to me about the couple I used my powers on," she said.

"You didn't tell him you used your Primordial powers did you?" Harry asked her, his green eyes intense.

"No. I pretended I thought they wised up and returned on their own. But I don't think he believed me. I also told him after graduation I planned to make my own decisions," she said. She was clasping her hands together nervously.

"Gods, Hermione…what did he say?"

"He said something about fledglings wanting to spread their wings and breaking their necks. He also implied I wouldn't be allowed to live my own life because of my gifts. He thinks I think he is talking about my intelligence, but I know it's more than that."

Harry was getting a cold feeling in his stomach as he listened to his friend talk about her meeting with Dumbledore. She had blatantly defied the Headmaster. Harry had long since surmised that Dumbledore was not as benign as he appeared to be. He didn't fully trust the Headmaster ever since he was forced to come clean about the things he had hidden from Harry, and how he had been manipulated over the years. Harry only followed his directives because he was a target of Voldemort's and knew he would have to face the Dark Lord one day, and not for the sake of the wizarding world, but for his own survival.

Harry was not a hero at heart, he didn't long for the glory and fame of being one. He did what he did because it seemed right to do. The saving of the Philosopher's Stone, the killing of the Basilisk and destruction of Tom Riddle's memory. Freeing his godfather, Sirius Black, destroying the Prophecy, and letting the world know Voldemort had returned…all these things he did because they needed to be done, not because he had a desire for glory or to make a name for himself. He already had a name. The Boy Who Lived. He never had a choice, ever. He knew what Hermione was feeling when it came to making decisions for herself. Just once he would like to know what that kind of freedom was like. But his situation was different than Hermione's. He was targeted from birth.

As he listened to Hermione, he realized that because of her powers, she was in danger too. She would be more powerful than anyone in the world. Dumbledore wouldn't want her making decisions. He'd want to use her to kill Voldemort. Harry knew Hermione wouldn't have a problem with the idea of defeating the Dark Lord, but Dumbledore would want to control every aspect of it. And with Hermione wanting to be independent…this could be bad. Harry didn't know how far the Headmaster would go to keep her in his control.

"Hermione, do you think the Headmaster knows you're a Primordial?" he asked her.

Hermione looked at him.

"Yes. Yes I do, Harry," she said softly. She couldn't tell him Snape had told her this. But he didn't ask how she knew. Instead he said quietly.

"If he does, he's not going to let you go, Hermione. He'll try to keep you under him."

"I know, Harry," she said, her eyes shining, "that's why I want you to know that no matter what, I will always remain loyal to you, Harry. And to the wizarding world. No matter how it appears outwardly. I want you to understand that Harry. You may hear bad things about me in the future. It won't be true. Trust me."

Harry was confused and worried.

"What do you mean, Hermione? What kind of bad things? You make it sound as if you are leaving or something," he said.

Hermione took both his hands in hers, and kissed them.

"I have to protect myself, Harry. Others want to use me, and if they can't use me…they might try to kill me. If that happens, I have to go into hiding," she said.

"Why? Why not just stay here? Hogwarts is the safest place in the wizarding world!" he said.

"Not necessarily, Harry," Hermione said obliquely.

Dumbledore. She was scared of the Headmaster, and she might be right to be.

"Where will you go?" he asked her.

"I can't tell you that. But I will be safe there. I just want you to remember that I am loyal and you can trust me. Will you do that?" she asked him, holding his hands tightly in hers.

"But Hermione…" Harry protested

She gripped his hands so hard it became painful.

"Will you do that, Harry? Promise me you will do that," she implored him, tears in her eyes.

Harry's eyes softened.

"Of course I will, Hermione. I love you. I would never think bad of you," he said softly.

Hermione embraced him so tightly, he felt he couldn't breathe. His arms went up around her, and he could feel her sobbing as if her heart was broken. He rubbed her back and let her cry, soaking the fabric of his robes with her tears. After several minutes, she pulled back from him, her amber eyes ringed in red.

"Hermione, let me help you. You shouldn't have to handle this alone. It's too much," he said, "I could help protect you, maybe find someplace safe for you…"

Hermione sniffled and shook her head.

"I have help, Harry. I'm not alone, completely, though it feels that way," she said, thinking of the cold, unfeeling Potions Master.

"Who?" Harry asked.

"I can't tell you. I am under a Wizard's Oath not to divulge the person," she said.

Harry frowned. She was keeping secrets from him. But then he understood. He had a few secrets of his own. Hermione looked at the time.

"Harry, you'd better head out. They'll be leaving for Hogsmeade soon," she said, drying her eyes with the edge of her robes.

"I don't want to leave you like this, Hermione," Harry said. He knew what it was like to feel totally alone.

"No, you go Harry. I need time to myself to think and prepare," she said, standing up and pulling him up with her. She hugged him again.

"Thank you for being here for me, Harry," she said against his ear. "I would never betray you."

Harry didn't want to let her go. He was afraid. Afraid he was going to lose her.

"Hermione," he whispered, a quaver in his voice. Hermione pulled back.

"Go to Hogsmeade Harry," she said softly, pushing him toward the exit.

He stood there stubbornly.

"Go," Hermione said, giving him a little smile, "I'll be fine. I promise."

She turned and walked up the stairs that led to the girl's dormitories, and her room.

Harry stared after her for a moment, his heart heavier than it had been for a long time. He hoped that whoever was helping her could be counted on.

He turned and slowly left the common room.

As he headed down the stairwells, he turned his thought to the puzzle of who could be helping Hermione. It had to be someone at Hogwarts. His mind sifted over all the teachers and Professors, trying to figure who would be brave enough or crazy enough to defy the Headmaster. It could cost that teacher their position, if not worse. Professor McGonagal was shagging the Headmaster, had been for years, so that put her out of the line-up. Flitwick and Madam Sprout just didn't seem to have enough nerve to do something like this. Then Harry paused. There was only one person in Hogwarts who would take such a risk. His whole life was nothing but one big risk. Professor Snape. Harry remembered him looking for Hermione. He was so intent on finding her he actually entered Gryffindor Tower. He hated Gryffindor. Only something important would have made him come there.

Harry was really worried now. If Snape was helping her, he was a dangerous ally to have. He couldn't be trusted as far as Harry was concerned. Plus, Snape didn't even like Hermione. He didn't like anyone. Why would he help her? Why would she accept his help? There was a lot more to this than Hermione was telling him. He'd be paying close attention to both of them from now on. He wasn't going to let the Potions Master dupe his friend.

* * *

Harry leaned against the dungeon corridor wall feeling sick to his stomach. He had been following Hermione on her rounds for the past two nights, under his invisibility cloak. He found out that after she completed her rounds, she would return to Snape's office and spend the night in the Potions Master's rooms. In the morning she would exit Gryffindor tower as if she had been there the whole night. She probably flooed back directly to her room in the morning.

Hermione had to be shagging Snape. There was no other explanation for it. He was taking advantage of her situation to have sex with her. That's why he was helping her, the perverted git. It was bad enough he participated in the Dark Lord's revels, did he have to spoil sweet, innocent Hermione too? At this moment, Harry hated Snape so much, it rivaled his hatred of Voldemort. What had he told Hermione to make her agree to sleep with him? Did he put that condition on his aid to her?

"I will gladly help you Miss Granger, but you'll have to shag me for my assistance."

Harry could see the bastard saying something like that to Hermione, and she, being so desperate for help, agreeing to let him crawl all over her. Oh, Hermione!

Harry made his way back toward the main hall and Gryffindor Tower. It made no sense to loiter outside the Potions Master's rooms. He knew she was there, and knew what the Potions Master was probably doing to her. He had to say something. To let her know he knew the Potions Master was forcing himself on her, and to let her know he'd help her get away from him.

When he entered the Main Hall, he saw someone coming, and even though he was under the cloak, he reflexively dipped back. It was Dumbledore. Why was he wandering the castle so late? The Headmaster crossed the main hall, looking about him as he walked, as if to make sure no one was following him. The old wizard walked to the main doors, pushed them open and walked out on to the grounds of Hogwarts.

Without a second thought, Harry dashed after him, catching the main doors before they closed and slipping out behind the Headmaster. He followed Albus at a distance as he walked across the landscape, heading for the main gates.

After a few minutes, the Headmaster reached the gates of Hogwarts. He unwarded them, stepped through, then warded them back. Then he placed a glamour on himself. Harry's eyes went wide as he stared at the wizard he had trusted all his time at Hogwarts.

The Headmaster was dressed like a Death Eater, from the hooded robes to the skull half-mask. He appeared beardless and much younger. No one would know that this was the Headmaster of Hogwarts. Suddenly he placed a silencing spell around himself, then apparated.

Harry knew he had seen something he was not meant to see. More than likely, wherever the Headmaster had gone dressed like that, he would have to return. Harry decided to wait for him. He settled down next to the gate, wrapping himself securely in his cloak, resting and his back against the cold metal. He cast a small warming spell around himself to fight the coldness of the night.

And waited for Dumbledore to return.

* * *

Snape sat in his armchair, nursing his third firewhiskey of the evening and staring into the fireplace. He was getting a nice little buzz. Hermione was sitting at the desk she had lost her virginity on, doing an assignment. She was dressed in a fluffy robe and slippers, her flannel nightgown beneath. It was cold in the Potions Masters rooms. This was her third night spent with the Potions Master, but it was completely sexless. He slept in his room and she would transfigure the sofa into a twin-sized bed and sleep there. He had made no advances toward her for sex, and she wasn't disappointed about it. Since she had kissed him and he told her exactly where she stood with him, she decided she would fight her attraction towards him. Actually, she acted as if she were alone in his rooms. And that suited the Potions Master just fine.

The only problem as far as he was concerned, was that she had to come into his room to use the loo and the shower. That, and the fact that she had her personal items in his bathroom. He had sifted through her things. There was scented shampoo, soaps, lotions, scent, and a box of contraceptive patches. He studied these for a moment. He hadn't even thought of the possibility of the witch getting pregnant by him. If she had, he would have taken care of the unwanted child with a potion. He never wanted to be a father. He doubted if he could show even his own child love, and didn't care to find out.

The Potions Master cut his eyes over at the studious witch. He really could use a blowjob right now. Hermione had been a bit cold since he told her where they stood. He doubted very much if she'd be willing to suck him off, especially when there was no reciprocal pleasure involved. He took another sip of his drink. He could always force her, saying it was the price for staying in his domain. He cut his eyes back over at her. She was completely wrapped up from head to toe. In her Head Girl's room she slept in a short nightie or naked. Since coming to his rooms, she bundled up as if she were sleeping outside. It was a bit on the cool side, but he thought she was supremely overdressed. Surreptiously, he cast a warming spell on the room. Maybe she'd at least take off her robe.

"It's not going to work, Professor. I'm not going to take off my robe, and I won't suck you off either," Hermione said, never lifting her eyes from her work.

The Potions Master sat up in the armchair and looked at her with his mouth open.

"I heard you," she said, looking up at him. "What you were thinking. You are a very nasty wizard, Professor."

Snape slumped back into his chair, scowling.

"Fucking Primordial powers," he thought blackly.

From the desk, Hermione chuckled and continued working.

* * *

"This has to be the most boring assignment on earth," said Joel, adjusting his mask. He was sweating underneath it.

"Yeah," said Jonsten, leaning on a lamppost, picking at his nails with his teeth, "We've been at it for weeks and nothing."

"Missing out on all the Revels," said Heustus, grimacing.

"Yeah. All that hot muggle trim," agreed Franklin, "ain't had none in weeks. My tool is going through withdrawal."

The four disillusioned Death Eaters were gathered outside the flat of the Grangers as they had been for the last several weeks, following the orders of their Lord. When they had been given this assignment, they wanted to protest protecting muggles. Muggles were their favorite prey after all. But Voldemort, sensing their reluctance, drove the importance of the assignment home with a few well-placed Cruciatus curses, and the Death Eaters apparated to muggle London and had been there ever since.

Initially there were five Death Eaters assigned to the Grangers. But that changed when one of their members took off to ravage a passing muggle woman who looked too delicious to live. When Voldemort found out he abandoned his post, he displayed the Death Eater's flayed, fleshless and lifeless body for a week in his throne room, nailed to the wall against a splash of crimson. Needless to say the Granger's were covered twenty-four hours a day after that.

Hermione's parents were blissfully unaware that they were in danger or being watched, though Mrs. Granger often had odd feelings whenever she entered and exited her home. She wasn't a bad looking woman for her age, and her guardians were Death Eaters after all. They leered at her constantly, and discussed the different positions they like to see her in. They also trailed the Grangers to work, riding the underground, feeling up muggle women and watching them slap and berate innocent males standing near them. They also lounged outside the couple's dental practice, playing pranks on passersby, such as making women's skirts fly up suddenly, showing their knickers (or lack of them), and tripping people.

As unsavory as the four Death Eaters were, they were good at their job, and some of the most skilled fighters in Voldemort's ranks. They really were prepared for anything. For example, no other Death Eaters were to come near the Granger's residence. If one were to appear, they would know immediately that he was an imposter. They also carefully checked each visitor or delivery to the Granger's home for magical signatures and glamours. They weren't just prepared to protect the Grangers in magical incidents. In one instance, Mrs. Granger was crossing the street with packages and didn't see an approaching car. The driver was distracted by trying to find a station on his radio and didn't see Mrs. Granger. If it weren't for Jonston flipping the vehicle over several times, Mrs. Granger would have been struck and most probably killed. The remains of the driver had to be cut from the car.

In another instance, some young thugs targeted Mr. Granger as he walked home from the fish and chips shop, and followed him closely, waiting for the opportunity to rob him. The thugs never got near him. But they were spared, only thrown several feet into a building wall and dazed. Death Eaters appreciated thuggishness after all, even in muggles.

As the four Death Eaters griped, they felt a magical signature via the ward they had placed around the Grangers home. Hermione's parents were inside, asleep. Immediately, the four silenced the ward and positioned themselves around the front of the flat, and waited for whoever set off the ward to appear. They had been instructed to take the attacker alive, and bring him to Voldemort, who planned to present him to Hermione as a gift. Tense, wands drawn and ready for action, the Death Eaters watched the front of the flat with narrowed eyes

Suddenly a Death Eater apparated soundlessly before the flat. He stood directly under the streetlight, which was odd, because Death Eaters tried to conceal themselves at all times, to avoid being seen. This one stood there a while as if waiting to be spotted by someone. And he was. A woman in a flat three doors down let out her cat, and saw him. They stared at each other for a moment, then the woman retreat to her flat, no doubt to tell her family about the strange costumed man standing outside the Granger's residence. The Death Eater was very tall and thin under his robes, and his hood was raised. Not one of Voldemort's Death Eaters recognized him, and they knew practically every member.

The masked wizard looked around carefully in his half-skull mask, and smiled a thin malicious smile, then started towards the flat, his blue eyes glittering.

* * *

A/N: More to come. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Inside the Blackest Heart Part 9**

"Hold it right there!" shouted Jonsten, and all four Death Eaters fired stunners at the masked imposter, who spun with amazing speed and blocked all four blasts simultaneously. But when he issued his shield, his glamour dropped for a moment, revealing who he was.

"Oh shit! It's Dumbledore!" cried Heustus, diving for cover as the Headmaster's glamour went back up.

"Merlin's balls!" yelled Franklin, pressed behind some garbage cans, firing over the top of them in Albus' general direction, "No one said it was him we'd be fighting! Damn!"

Dumbledore was livid. He had been found out, which meant someone knew his plan to kill the Grangers, and they were being protected by Death Eaters! That could only mean two things. Miss Granger was under Voldemort's influence and Snape had betrayed him. The Headmaster sent a powerful blast toward the garbage cans, sending Franklin and the cans flying.

All around the battling wizards, doors opened and heads peeked out, only to withdraw quickly as their blasts flashed, exploded and ricocheted.

Joel and Jonsten were pressed on the side of the flat, aiming blasts at the Headmaster, which he easily blocked. Albus shot back a powerful blast that tore a chunk out of the wall as the Death Eaters ducked back.

"We're going to be killed," Joel panted at Jonsten, "We can't capture Dumbledore! He's too powerful."

"We just need to keep him from killing the muggles," Jonsten gasped, peeking out to see where the wizard was. A blast caught him and he fell to the ground, blood pouring from his face.

"Shit!" Joel said, looking down at his dead comrade. He pressed himself against the wall.

Albus shielded himself and quickly walked back to the streetlight. It made no sense to kill the Grangers now. Hermione had already turned against him irrevocably. That much was assured when her parents' home was guarded by Death Eaters. And Severus was the only one who could have possibly set up such an arrangement. Albus had to deal with Hermione before she went to the Dark Lord and gained her full Primordial powers. If she would not serve the Order, then she would serve no one. He apparated back to Hogwarts with a clap of thunder.

* * *

Hermione stopped writing. 

"Professor Snape, something's happening. Something bad. Very bad," she said, rising from her chair.

"Hmph?" the Potions Master said sullenly, still pissed Hermione had known his intentions.

Hermione walked over to the chair.

"Professor, something bad is coming. We've got to get ready. We have to leave," she said, her voice growing panicked.

The Potions Master took one look at Hermione's face and stood up, his buzz rapidly disappearing. The witch was frightened to death it seemed. Had Albus made his move?

"Get dressed, Miss Granger," Snape said, "Use magic."

Suddenly Hermione stood before him fully dressed in robes and traveling cloak, a small carry-all bag in her hand. And she hadn't moved. Her powers were coming under her control.

She looked down at herself.

"I didn't think about it. It was the need, but I felt the power rush through me," she said.

Snape checked the ward on the study. He turned to face the witch.

"Are you sure this spell of yours will work, Miss Granger?" he asked her, his black eyes hard.

"Yes. I set it to fifty wards. If it is the Headmaster, he can blast through them but they will still slow him down," she said, "Can we go now?"

"No," the Potions Master said, looking at the witch, "We must be certain Albus is coming for us. It would make no sense to go to the Dark Lord if we do not have to."

Hermione walked over to the armchair, and sat down on the very edge of it, looking at the Potions Master nervously.

All they could do is wait.

* * *

Dumbledore apparated in front of the Hogwarts gates with a clap of thunder. This woke Harry, who had been dozing. The Boy Who Lived stood up and watched as the Headmaster dropped his Death Eater glamour, and unwarded the gates. He stepped through and rewarded them. He started across the grounds at a swift pace. 

Harry followed him.

"Headmaster!" he called.

Albus stopped and spun around. He scowled as the green-eyed wizard ran up to him.

"Harry! What are you doing out here?" the Headmaster asked him, trying to hide his ire. Blast the boy!

"I saw you leaving and I followed you. What are you doing, sir? Why were you dressed as a Death Eater?" he asked, frowning at the Headmaster.

"I was doing some work for the Order, that required such a disguise Harry. Sometimes I also participate in undercover work," he said to the young wizard.

Harry looked at him sharply. He could tell the boy didn't believe him.

"Tell you what, Harry, walk with me and I'll tell you about it," the Headmaster said benignly.

"All right," Harry said. But he still had the distinct feeling something wasn't right.

"So where were you when you saw me leaving, Harry?" the Headmaster asked.

"By the dungeons corridor. I was on my way back to Gryffindor Tower," Harry replied honestly.

"I see. Doing some late night run-about with your invisibility cloak, eh?" Albus said, smiling at the wizard.

"You could say that sir," Harry replied. "So tell me about…"

"Obliviate!" Albus cried, hitting Harry with the memory spell wandlessly. Harry crumpled.

"Sorry, my boy, but you've seen too much tonight," the Headmaster said, levitating Harry's prone body.

Albus floated the unconscious young wizard before him as he approached the castle. He would leave him at the entrance to the dungeons. He'd have no memory of what he had seen. Damn the nosy boy. Why were all his charges becoming so rebellious? Well, as soon as he dropped off Harry, he'd go take care of Miss Granger. Her death would be a shock to all. It was a shame really. She could have helped him so much…made his plans so much easier. She would have made him the greatest leader that the wizarding world had ever seen. But he couldn't let Voldemort have her.

Albus walked up the castle steps and cast a disillusionment spell on himself and Harry, and cautiously opened the main doors. No one was about. He opened the door wider and floated the shimmer that was Harry inside, across to the dungeon entrance and lowered him to the floor. He removed the disillusionment spell. Harry would be out for a couple of hours. More than enough time to do what he needed to do. The Headmaster hesitated, then turned down the dungeon corridor, keeping his disillusion charm. Before he dealt with Miss Granger, he'd take care of that traitor Snape.

If the Potions Master thought Voldemort had given him pain…

* * *

Albus approached the Potions Master's office, and found a simple ward protecting it, which he quickly disabled. 

"Alohamora," he said, unlocking the door.

Quietly, he turned the handle and entered the Potions Master's office. Pity. Snape was an insolent, unlikable, traitorous bastard, but he had been one of the best Potions Professors in the history of Hogwarts. He would be hard to replace. But he would be.

Albus approached the bookcase and pulled the tome that opened the study. It didn't open. The study was warded as well. Albus removed the ward and pulled the tome out again. It still didn't open. Albus checked again. Another stronger ward was in place. The Headmaster glowered. He removed that ward as well, and found another stronger one in its place. Snape knew he was looking for him. Furious, Albus stepped back and let out a powerful blast that shook the Potions office, and the study within.

"SEVERUS!" he roared

Inside the study the Potions Master calmly looked at Hermione.

"That's our cue, Miss Granger," he said as another powerful blast shook the study. He offered his arm, and Hermione took it nervously.

The Potions Master stood there.

"Why aren't we apparating?" Hermione asked as the study was shaken by another blast.

Snape looked down at her.

"I just want to see his face," the Potions Master replied, his black eyes glittering as he watched the study door.

There was another blast that blew the wall out. Albus stepped through. Hermione had never seen the Headmaster look so frightening. His lips were drawn back from his teeth in a horrible snarl, and his brow was furrowed in rage. His blue eyes, the same eyes that twinkled so merrily at her were full of hatred…and death.

The Headmaster paused in surprise as he saw Hermione on the Professor's arm, cloaked and with a carry-all bag in her hand. Snape's black eyes met his, and the Potions Master's lips curled in a slow, taunting smile.

"NO!" Albus screamed, lunging forward desperately and throwing a blast as the pair disapparated. It hit the fireplace, blowing out a chunk of stone.

"No!" Albus said, dropping his head. They were gone to the Dark Lord's domain.

* * *

Voldemort sat on his throne listening to the two surviving Death Eaters tell how they thwarted the attempt on the Grangers' lives. The Dark Lord was delighted when told who the assailant was. 

"Dumbledore? He tried to kill the Grangers himself? Oh, this is too, too rich. He has practically placed the Primordial in my hand! Quick, bring me a pensieve!"

Voldemort had summoned a select few of his Death Eaters on the return of Joel and Huestus. He figured Hermione would be arriving with Severus soon, and he wanted to make a show of power for the witch. He had transformed his normally bleak and empty throne room to a place of opulence, with tapestries, silks and ornate furniture.

A Death Eater quickly rushed up to the wizard, and falling to his knees with his head down, handed the wizard a small bowl. The Dark Lord rose from his throne, descended it and walked up to Joel and Heustus, who bowed their heads. Voldemort extracted their memories, depositing them into the bowl. When finished, he mounted his throne, sat down and place one long, reptilian finger in the silvery liquid, his red eyes shifting as he watched their experience. He laughed out loud with delight when Dumbledore's glamour fell, revealing him, a wide lipless smile spreading across his face. His tongue flickered out when he finished.

"Excellent!" he said to the two Death Eaters. "You have done well. I do not have any muggle women to offer you…" he said, frowning slightly at the two wizards

"…because we have suspended our Dark Revels for the time the Primordial will be staying with us. I plan to create another location for that sport, never fear my Death Eaters, never fear. For now you may select any female from among our ranks to reward yourselves with. Only do not use your enhancement magic on them, and do not beat them to the point they cannot serve me. Restraint gentlemen. Restraint. Now go, choose who you will."

"Thank you my Lord," both men intoned. They turned with narrowed eyes and began to move through the crowd of Death Eaters, eyeing the women lustfully, their eyes roaming up and down their bodies. Some of the women were married, but that made no difference. All were in service to the Dark Lord, he was their true husband, and they obeyed him faithfully.

Joel's eye fell on Narcissa Malfoy, who was standing next to her husband Lucius, who narrowed his eyes discretely at the Death Eater to warn him off without attracting the Dark Lord's attention. Joel ignored him, parted Narcissa's cloak, and lifted her robes, checking out her long legs. He looked at her cold, proud face, and plainly saw disdain in her ice-blue eyes. He caught her by the hand.

"You'll do," he growled, smirking at Lucius, whose hands were clenched into fists. The pureblood trembled with rage. But there was nothing he could do. The Dark Lord had given them free reign of the women. Narcissa looked at her husband, then obediently followed Joel, who took her to a silk-cover divan, laid her down on it, and began opening her robes.

"Crucio!" Voldemort said lazily, hitting Joel with a short burst of the curse. The Death Eater spasmed for a moment, then the curse stopped. He stood there gasping, looking at the Dark Lord.

"Not here, you idiot. The Primordial will be here soon. I don't want her walking in on your naked ass pumping up and down. Take her to one of the backrooms," Voldemort lisped.

Joel nodded, pulled Narcissa off the divan and walked through a side door, Lucius watching them depart with red-rimmed eyes. Voldemort looked at him.

"Now, now Lucius. Surely you wouldn't deny Joel his reward?" he said softly to the blonde-haired wizard.

"No, my Lord," Lucius replied, bowing slightly.

"She won't be any worse for wear when she returns. You should be proud that she renders such service in the name of your Lord," Voldemort said.

"I am, my Lord," Lucius replied.

"Good, Lucius. I would hate to have to punish you for selfishness," the Dark Lord said.

Lucius paled a bit. "No, my Lord. That will not be necessary. I willingly share whatever I have with my brothers," he said.

Voldemort nodded. His red eyes flickered around the room. His Death Eaters were in full regalia, standing in mass to the right and left of his throne, leaving an aisle down the middle. They looked impressive. Over a thousand strong.

"Has the Primordial's rooms been prepared?" he asked.

"Yes, my Lord," a squeaky voice piped up. Peter Pettigrew shouldered his way through the crowd and bowed low. "It has been set up with a bedroom, a living room, full bath and shower, and a well-stocked library."

Voldemort eyed the rat-like little man. "How about servants?" he asked.

"Two house elves, my Lord," Peter simpered with another quick bow. He was such a groveling little snit.

"Very good, Peter," Voldemort said, dismissing him. He disappeared back into the crowd.

"Now I am reminding you all one last time that there are to be no derogatory remarks about muggles or muggle-borns in the Primordial's presence. Those who disobey this directive will suffer my wrath. Is this understood?" the Dark Lord hissed.

Echoes of "Yes, my Lord" rang through the throne room.

"Later, you will be allowed to test her. But for now she is to be treated as a guest. All will be on their best behavior."

Again echoes of assent were heard.

Voldemort suddenly stiffened.

"They are coming!" he said excitedly. The Dark Lord straightened his splendid green and silver robes, and sat up very straight in his throne, holding his wand like a scepter.

Snape and Hermione apparated with a clap of thunder at the end of the aisle.

"Remember," Snape hissed, "Curtsey, kiss his hand and do not under any circumstances react to his appearance. Address him as "my Lord".

Hermione clutched Snape's arm so tightly, she was cutting off his circulation as they walked up the aisle toward the tall, lean figure sitting on the throne. They stopped in front of it.

"Allow me to introduce Miss Hermione Granger, my Lord," Snape said bowing.

Hermione curtsied as instructed, then looked up at the wizard. She fought back a gasp at his snake-like appearance. His skin was covered by thin scales, though still flesh. His nostrils were slits, and his lips so thin he appeared lipless. She could discern no ears. He was also hairless.

"Approach me, Miss Granger," Voldemort lisped. Tentatively she moved closer to the throne. Voldemort stood and descended. He moved fluidly, almost gracefully as he approached. His red eyes searched her face.

"Lovely," he lisped, looking over at Snape, his eyes slitting slightly in approval.

He looked back at Hermione.

"I am honored, Primordial," he said, lifting her hand and pressing his thin lips to it. Hermione suppressed a shudder.

"Thank you for your kindness in protecting my family, my Lord," Hermione said. She did mean it.

"I am glad I could assist you in your time of need, Miss Granger. You are welcome to dwell with me as long as you like," he said, "You are under my protection and shall come to no harm here. You are beyond the reach of Dumbledore," he said, giving her a toothy smile.

"I thank you, my Lord," she said, giving another slight curtsey.

"Your rooms have been prepared. I imagine you are very tired. This has been a trying day for you. You will be escorted to your rooms for the night. On the morrow, we shall chat," the Dark Lord said, motioning to a female Death Eater who stepped forward. She approached Hermione, who looked at the masked woman with a bit of apprehension. She lowered her hood and removed her mask. She was lovely, dark-eyed and dark-haired. The woman smiled.

"My name is Delilah. Allow me to show you to your rooms, Miss Granger," she said politely.

She gestured toward a door, and she and Hermione walked through it, Hermione fighting the urge to look back at Snape. As soon as the door was closed, Voldemort turned to Snape.

"You have done well, Severus. Well indeed. You have made up for all my disappointments in you. You are indeed my most loyal and trusted servant," the Dark Lord said, then raised his scaly eyebrows. "And a most fortunate wizard to be bedding such a lovely witch. She is quite delicious. You must let me see you doing her via pensieve one day."

"Certainly, my Lord," Snape replied, bowing, "It would be my pleasure."

"I would like to reward you, Severus. As I told Joel and Huestus, I have no muggles available, due to the arrival of Miss Granger, but you may have your pick of any of our females, if you like….that is if you have not been sated by the Primordial," the Dark Lord said with a leer.

Snape turned and looked at the many women. All of them were smiling at him. He was the Dark Lord's favorite now. Well, he had wanted a blowjob.

"Thank you, my Lord, I believe I will indulge myself," he replied. He looked over the women, and his eyes fell on one who had very full, lush lips. He crooked a finger at her, and she approached him, smiling. She stood in front of him for a moment, looking him in the eye. The Professor's eyes flicked down then up again.

She lowered her hood, removed her mask and dropped to her knees.

* * *

Hermione sat on the edge of the beautifully carved king-sized four-poster bed Voldemort provided for her comfort. Her rooms were quite nice. She had a living room and a separate study/library. Her bathroom was huge, with a sunken marble tub and several scented spigots, and a large enclosed standalone shower. She checked the titles in the study and found some interesting ones about magical theory, spell work and potions, even a few muggle titles, which surprised her. Did the Dark Lord appreciate muggle literature? 

The female Death Eater Delilah had brought her to the rooms, showed her about and offered to help her bathe. But there was something in the woman's eyes that made Hermione decline. Delilah attempted to persuade her as she took Hermione's cloak and started to unbutton her robes for her, her dark eyes shining excitedly. Hermione caught the woman's hands and told her she would undress herself and that she was fine now. Delilah had looked very disappointed when she exited Hermione's room. Hermione, on the other hand, breathed a sigh of relief when the Death Eater left. Delilah was giving off signals that Hermione wasn't ready to receive. As far as the Primordial knew, she preferred men sexually, and wasn't ready to experiment with a woman. Plus sex was the last thing on her mind. Until she suddenly received an image.

It was a quick vision of Professor Snape standing in front of Voldemort and the Death Eaters, his fists wrapped in the hair of a woman on her knees. He was driving into the woman's mouth roughly, his head tilted back, eyes closed with pleasure as everyone watched, approval evident on all their faces. He moved faster, let out a silent shout and stiffened, looking down and jerking the woman's face flush to his pelvis, grimacing from his release. The crowd cheered and the vision faded.

"What a twisted bastard," Hermione snorted. "Fucking exhibitionist." But she felt a twinge of jealousy and fought it back. Snape could not even be considered her lover. She didn't know what he was. A shag-buddy? No, he was nobody's buddy. She pushed him out of her mind.

Hermione removed her robes, pulled the white t-shirt beneath over her head, and then stepped out of her sweatpants. Apparently her magic had dressed her for comfort. Hermione noticed the wardrobe and walked over to it. Inside were beautiful dresses in her size, all rather low cut and shimmery. Probably what Voldemort liked to see women in. She would wear one tomorrow for him. She'd decided to try to stay in good graces with the wizard. She pulled out the drawer and it was filled with lingerie, pretty matching bra and panty sets, and silk nightgowns, both short and full length. She picked one up and rubbed the fabric against her cheek. It felt smooth, and delicious against her skin. She removed her underthings, walked into the bathroom and used the shower. The showerhead had little dials on it, where scent could be released into the spray. They even had jasmine scent. Hermione adjusted it, and took a long wash. When she stepped out of the spray and dried herself off, she felt invigorated. She wondered if the water had replenishing potion integrated into it. She slipped on the nightgown and as the silk dropped over her flesh, she felt delicious sensations shoot through her body. It seemed the nightgown was charmed to feel extra good against the skin.

Hermione realized that she felt a little puckish. As soon as thoughts of hunger hit her, two of the saddest looking house elves she had ever seen winked in.

"Hello Miss. I am Hansel and this here's Gretel," the brown house elf said, gesturing to its green companion, "We will be serving you during your stay with the Master."

Hermione looked at the elf.

"You don't speak the elf dialect, Hansel," she commented.

"No Miss. Gretel and I have never associated with other house elves, only humans, Miss. So we don't talk like them."

"I see," said Hermione looking down on the dismal pair.

"Why do you look so unhappy?" Hermione asked the elves. They both looked at each other, rather frightened.

"We are proud to serve the Dark Lord, Miss," piped up Gretel, who look stricken at her question. Hermione understood. They probably lived a miserable existence here. Sympathetically she reached out a hand to pat the house elf, and the creature drew away as if she were going to hit her.

"Gretel, you don't have to be afraid of me," Hermione said softly, "I wouldn't dream of hurting either of you. I like house elves, though I think you should be paid for your work."

Both house elves looked up at her, suspiciously.

"House elves are never paid for their work, Miss. They are slaves," said Hansel. Hermione thought she detected a bit of bitterness in the elf, though she had never heard an elf call itself a slave. They always referred to themselves as servants.

"I know one. His name is Dobby. He is free and works in the kitchens of Hogwarts for pay," she said to the elf, who looked excited for a moment. So did Gretel.

"He is free?" Hansel asked, his brown eyes glistening.

"Yes," Hermione replied.

The elf looked wistful for a moment, then frightened that he had shown that emotion to Hermione.

"Don't worry, Hansel. Everyone has dreams. It isn't bad to want to be free," she said, and she caressed his head lightly. The elf's eyes closed in pleasure and he rolled his head beneath her palm, as Gretel looked on, her green eyes shining.

"This Miss is not like the others," the elf thought.

Hermione stood up.

"Are you my servants?" she asked the elves.

"Yes Miss, as long as you are here," Hansel replied, bowing. He looked a little less unhappy now.

"Well, you will not be mistreated by me, ever," she said to the elves. The creatures actually smiled. Everyone abused them. Hermione was the first to say she wouldn't.

"Yes, Miss," the elves said in unison, looking at each other and back at Hermione, eagerly now.

"What can I bring you, Miss?" Hansel asked, almost trembling to serve the witch.

"Can I get two ham sandwiches with lettuce, tomatoes and mustard? And a glass of cold pumpkin juice?"

"Certainly Miss," Gretel replied, curtseying. Both winked out.

Several minutes later they returned with Hermione's food, and set it on her night table.

"Do you need anything else, Miss?" Hansel asked.

"No, I'm fine now. Thank you so much," she replied.

The elves both quivered with joy.

"What?" Hermione asked before biting into her sandwich. She was starved.

"No one ever thanks us," Gretel said.

"Well I will. I appreciate your service," Hermione responded, smiling at them, "now good-night."

They quivered a little more at this declaration and winked out.

Hermione finished her meal and was about to turn in when her door opened and the Professor walked in.

"Haven't you ever heard of knocking?" Hermione said irritatedly as she slid under the silk sheets.

The Professor walked over to her bed and looked down at her, his black eyes glittering. He sniffed.

"I see they've provided you with jasmine. And quite a room," he commented.

"Yes, the residence is quite nice, and the library well stocked," she responded, then she frowned at him. "I saw you were provided with something 'nice' too."

The Professor looked at her, perplexed for a moment, then he realized what she was referring to.

"Ah, you mean my little brown-haired reward. Yes, she was quite proficient," he replied, smirking. "You seem a little jealous, Primordial."

Hermione sat up, scowling at him.

"I am not jealous. Why would I be jealous of a black-hearted exhibitionist like you?" she spat.

The Professor actually grinned, although a bit unpleasantly.

"If it is any consolation to you, Miss Granger," he purred silkily, "She was nothing compared to you." His black eyes grew hot at the memory.

Hermione blushed. She couldn't help it. She felt a little pulse of warmth between her legs. Damn him.

The Professor looked at her and licked his lips.

"I came here to ask you if you would like me to spend the night with you. It was the Dark Lord's idea. He wants to make sure all your 'needs' are met. He said to tell you that you have your pick of Death Eaters to indulge yourself with, if you develop a taste for something 'different.' Snape said, a slight frown on his face.

He didn't care about Hermione per se, but he was like most men, territorial. He was the one who broke her in, after all.

"You don't like the idea of me having sex with other men, Professor," Hermione said with a smirk.

"You can shag whom you like," he replied, looking at her blackly. If she wasn't under the protection of Voldemort, he'd take her right now, whether she wanted it or not, the cheeky twit.

"So do you want me to stay?" he asked, hoping she would say yes so he could knock a new hole in her.

Hermione looked around the room, then smiled evilly.

"Yes. Yes I do want you to stay," she said looking up at him.

The Professor quickly began to disrobe, his eyes hard as he looked at her.

"Right there in that armchair," she finished.

Snape looked at the plush armchair pushed against the wall.

"What?" he said angrily.

"I want you to spend the night in the armchair and watch over me. I am in a new place and I feel out of sorts. Your presence will make me sleep better," she said sweetly.

"I will not sleep in an armchair!" he said, scowling at her.

Hermione crossed her arms and scowled right back at him.

"You WILL sleep in that armchair, or else I will complain to the Dark Lord you refused to do what I asked of you," she responded smugly.

Snape fought the urge to wrap his hands around her neck and choke her to within an inch of her life. She had him, and she knew it.

"In fact, I want you to come here every night and watch over me," she said vengefully.

"You are an evil bitch," Snape snarled, stalking over to the chair and sitting down in it, looking as if he wanted to hit her with the Killing curse.

Hermione smiled at him.

"You must be rubbing off on me, Professor," she smirked, "now dim the lights. I'm going to sleep."

Hermione made a large production of snuggling down into the comfortable bed, while Snape shifted around to find a comfortable position in the armchair. He was too long for it. He waved his hand at the torches and they dimmed.

"Good night, Professor," Hermione's voice floated over to him, full of sugar.

"Fuck you, Miss Granger," Snape snapped.

He'd get her for this.

* * *

Hermione woke well rested. She stretched in a cat-like manner, feeling her blood rush through her veins. Her nightgown shifted against her sending pleasant sensations throughout her body, culminating between her thighs. She groaned. That felt really good. She turned her head. Snape was bunched up in the armchair, his head at an odd angle. He looked very uncomfortable. She knew he'd be achy and in a black mood when he woke. She shifted again, and again her nightgown titillated her. She bit her lip and looked over at Snape again. Her mind began to work. Being a guest of Voldemort's put the Potions Master under her power. He was duty-bound to obey her wishes. She was feeling randy, and her thoughts shifted back to when he was being pleasured by the female Death Eater. Hm. He didn't have a problem letting a woman service him… 

"Professor! Professor, wake up!" Hermione called over to the sleeping wizard.

Snape slowly opened his eyes. They were bloodshot. He shifted in the armchair, then sat up, rubbing his face with his hand. He stretched, then winced. He glared at Hermione.

"What is it?" he growled.

"I want you to pleasure me," Hermione said, looking at him with smoky eyes.

Snape looked at her, a hard expression on his face. Yes. He'd pleasure her all right. He'd ride her so hard her back would crack. He stood up and began unfastening his robes.

"That won't be necessary, Professor," Hermione purred, sitting up against the headboard and throwing back the covers.

He stopped and looked at her.

"What do you mean? How am I supposed to do you if I don't undress…unless you want the quick version," he leered, his hand dropping to his fly.

"No…I don't want that. I want you to pleasure me orally," she replied, spreading her legs a little.

"What?" the Professor sputtered, "what about me?"

"What about you? You can go shag a Death Eater for all I care. Now come pleasure me, now," Hermione said, her amber eyes slitting.

Snape's nostril's flared.

"You wouldn't want me to tell Voldemort you weren't 'cooperating' would you?" Hermione said with an evil leer of her own.

"You fucking, power-mad little chit," Snape breathed, "I should have left you to Dumbledore."

"Should of, could of, would of. Get over here," Hermione said, enjoying her power over the irate Potions Master.

Snape was livid. Never in his life had he been under the power of a woman. And certainly never forced to pleasure one without reciprocation. Hermione was taking advantage of him in a very Slytherin-like manner, and the way she was doing it was giving her total control. Still, he had to obey her or face the wrath of the Dark Lord. He could fall from favor easily if Voldemort thought he was making the Primordial unhappy. Shit. He had never dreamed Hermione would take advantage of him like this. There was nothing he could do but comply.

He stalked over to the bed, and sat down on it, looking at her blackly.

"You'll pay for this, Miss Granger. I assure you," he growled as he climbed into the bed, sliding downward so he could reach her thighs.

"If you want to run your mouth, Professor, there's a better way to do it," she breathed.

"Bitch," he breathed as he lowered his head and began to service Hermione. She moaned at the contact of his tongue, and wrapped her hands in his silky black hair, tugging on it.

The Potions Master was seething. He hated anyone's hands in his hair. She had been choked the last time she pulled his hair. He tore into her, lashing her with his tongue roughly, sucking on her nub hard. Unfortunately, Hermione was loving it. She was getting off on his application and the fact that she was in control.

"Ooh, yeah Professor," she breathed sexily, thrusting her hips forward. "Do me."

Snape sucked, licked and nibbled on Hermione, beginning to enjoy himself despite being forced. He did love trim after all. It was her control that galled him. He thrust his tongue deep inside her and Hermione shrieked with pleasure, her sleeve clutching at his limber muscle as she climaxed, pulling his hair so hard he felt as if it were coming out by the roots.

He drank her in until her grip on his hair relaxed, and she slumped slightly, her chest heaving beneath her gown. He pulled away from her. He was so hard it hurt. He looked at the sated witch, whose half-lidded amber eyes met his hot black ones.

"Let me do you, Miss Granger. It will be good, I assure you," he growled.

She looked at him heatedly for a moment, but then her eyes went a little hard.

"No thank you, Professor. I'm good. You go off and find one of your little groupies to take care of that," she said, pointing at the tent in his robes.

He grabbed her. He couldn't help himself. His fingers dug into her shoulders.

"You fucking tease," he snarled, "I'm not your gods damned toy!"

"Let me go, Professor," Hermione said calmly, though her heart was pounding.

His black eyes searched her amber ones for a moment, then he let go, roughly pushing her back against the headboard. He stood up and adjusted his robes.

"You better not need me to shag you any time soon, Miss Granger. It would be much safer if you chose another wizard, believe me. I won't forget this," he snarled at her.

"You certainly won't. You're going to be doing it for a while. I'm making it a part of my daily 'wakeup regimen'" she replied evenly. What was she doing? Why did treating him like this make her feel so good?

The Professor let out a stream of profanities, spun and exited the room, his robes billowing.

Hermione grinned after him. She had him by the balls.

* * *

Snape stormed into the throne room. Voldemort's red eyes followed him as he stalked over to a group of female Death Eaters. He grabbed one by the shoulders, turned her around and began unbuttoning his robes, muttering to himself as he did so. He opened his robes and quickly unfastened his pants. 

The Dark Lord watched with interest as he bent the woman over, pulled up her robes and brutally rammed his enormous tool inside her, stroking her with a vengeance as he muttered

"Bitch! Fucking controlling little chit! Gods damn Primordial!…"

He shagged the shrieking Death Eater violently until he stiffened and came, shouting "Fuck you Hermione Granger!"

He released the woman, scourgified himself, tucked his deflated member back into his boxers, and fastened his pants. He turned to leave.

"Severus, a word if you please," came a familiar high-pitched voice.

Snape turned to see the Dark Lord eyeing him.

"Yes, my Lord," he said, "approaching the throne and bowing low to the Dark Lord, who cocked his head at the Potions Master, amusement in his red eyes.

"You seem a bit out of sorts this morning. Did all go well with the Primordial last night?" Voldemort asked Snape.

"Yes, my Lord," the Professor replied, rather tightly.

Voldemort looked at him.

"Let me see," the dark wizard said, rising from his throne.

"What, my Lord?" Snape asked, hesitating.

Voldemort descended the throne and stood in front of the Potions Master.

"Let me see how your night went with the Primordial. Open your mind to me," Voldemort lisped.

Snape bowed his head.

"Legilimens!" the Dark Lord said. He stood there, resplendent in royal blue and gold robes, reliving Snape's memory of the night before. The wizard began to gasp, then laugh uproariously. He staggered back from Snape and actually doubled-over with hilarity.

The Potions Master stood there stoically, forcing himself not to scowl as his Lord had a laugh at his expense.

After a few minutes, Voldemort straighten and wiped the tears from his red eyes as he weakly mounted the steps to his throne.

"So, the Primordial is lording her position over you, Severus. How delightfully delicious. She has a very pretty little lovehole, my boy. Tasty too by the way you went at her," Voldemort said.

Snape didn't reply.

"Do not feel badly, Severus. You too have your service. And right now it is to keep her happy in the manner she wishes. If she is not kept happy, I will be very displeased," he said warningly.

"Yes, my Lord," Snape replied.

"It will get worse before it gets better, Severus. Her gowns are charmed to inspire sensuality. And this entire domain reeks of fleshy desire, lust and fulfillment of every carnal need. It seeps into everyone in its influence. Changes them slowly. Makes them pleasure-oriented. Why else do you think all my Death Eaters are so randy, Severus? So ready to participate in the revels? You are all slaves to the flesh. The Primordial is susceptible too, until she comes to full power. Hopefully she will develop a taste for things carnal that will remain in her psyche before then. In the meantime, she will become more demanding, more controlling. Her own pleasure will be her first priority. So be prepared to take care of her every need, Severus…unless she chooses to consort with others…" the Dark Lord's voice trailed off.

Voldemort's red eyes glittered. He wouldn't mind indulging Hermione. She was going to be the most powerful witch in the world. As far as the Dark Lord was concerned, he was the most powerful wizard. It irked him a little that she chose Severus, who was nothing but a servant. He was not used to being denied pleasures, but in the Primordial's case…he needed to exercise restraint. In a few days, after being immersed in the aura of sensuality of his realm, she might acquiesce and give him a taste of her charms. But for now, Severus had to meet her needs.

"I notice she has a very cruel streak. A darkness of her own. I want to develop that aspect of her, Severus. Take every opportunity to reinforce it," Voldemort said.

"Yes, my Lord," Snape said. Gods, he was in trouble. Hermione was going to get worse. There was no telling what humiliations the witch would put him through. He hated this. It was like he had acquired another Lord, just as he got rid of Albus. Life just wasn't fair.

"Go to her, Severus. Tell her I would like her to join me for breakfast in an hour," the Dark Lord said, flicking his hand at Snape in dismissal.

"Yes, my Lord," Snape said bowing, and heading back to Hermione's rooms.

Gods, this sucked.

* * *

A/N: More to come. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Inside the Blackest Heart Part 10**

Harry arrived at Dumbledore's office within minutes after McGonagal woke him to tell him the Headmaster required his presence. He had a cold feeling in his stomach that this was about Hermione. He wondered if the Headmaster knew his Potions Master was shagging the Head Girl under duress. He knocked on the door.

"Come in," said a tired voice.

Harry entered Dumbledore's office. The Headmaster was sitting behind his desk. He looked old and tired, as if life had finally beaten him down.

"Are you all right, Headmaster?" Harry asked, taking the armchair in front of Dumbledore's desk.

"I am not all right Harry. I am afraid I have some bad news for you about your friend, Miss Granger. I wanted you to hear it from me before it spreads throughout the castle," the Headmaster said.

"What about Hermione?" Harry asked, his heart tightening in fear, "She's not dead, is she?"

Dumbledore shook his head.

"No, though she is dead to us in another sense, my boy," the Headmaster said softly.

"Tell me! Where is Hermione?" Harry said impatiently, his voice hoarse with worry.

"Professor Snape has taken her to Voldemort," Dumbledore said, his blue eyes dull.

"Snape! That bastard! I knew he couldn't be trusted…now he's kidnapped Hermione and taken her…" Harry began raging. Dumbledore stopped him.

"No Harry, I'm afraid she wasn't forced. Her room was checked this morning and many of her things were gone. She packed them. We can only assume Harry, that she went with him of her own free will, and has switched allegiances," Dumbledore said.

"No! Hermione wouldn't do that!" Harry yelled at the Headmaster, "Don't you say she'd do that! She'd never join the Dark Lord! Never!"

Dumbledore looked at him sadly.

"Harry, the Potions Master and Hermione had more than a teacher/student relationship. They were lovers…" Dumbledore began

"You knew? You knew Snape was shagging her and you didn't do anything about it?" Harry hollered at the wizard, "You didn't try to stop them? Why didn't you fire him?"

The Headmaster sighed.

"Harry, I confronted them both. Professor Snape refused to leave her alone if she continued to want him. She is the age of consent, so he couldn't be faulted. I also talked to Hermione about how unsuitable the relationship was. She didn't agree to stop seeing him, although she said she'd think about what I said. My hands were tied Harry. We can only assume that Severus convinced her to abandon us and join Voldemort. She was young and impressionable, and Severus is a master at persuasion. The combination of persuasion and intimacy must have been enough to send her over the edge," Dumbledore said, shaking his head.

Harry dropped his head into his hands in despair.

"No. This can't be true, there has to be something else, some other reason she's gone to Voldemort," he said, his voice muffled.

"There is no other reason I know of Harry. Now that she is with him, the Order itself is compromised. She knows the location of Headquarters, the names of our members, some of our undercover operatives, many of the spells we've developed to fight his evil. Voldemort now has the advantage," Dumbledore sighed. "I'm afraid Miss Granger is now our enemy, Harry and as such she has been added to the list of Voldemort supporters we must track down."

"No! Hermione's no criminal. You have no proof she's done anything! She might be planning to take Voldemort out," he said rebelliously.

"I highly doubt that Harry. Miss Granger is brilliant, but she hard has the means to destroy the Dark Lord." Albus said, studying the young wizard and wondering how much he knew.

Harry hesitated, then looked at Dumbledore, his green eyes narrowed.

"You know she is a Primordial, Headmaster. She was going to leave you for a year after graduation to stay with her parents. I think she was scared you wouldn't let her go because of her developing powers," he said, looking at the Headmaster challengingly.

"But I already gave Miss Granger my blessing to leave," Albus said. "I didn't try to keep her here against her will, Harry. I would never do that."

Harry looked at him.

"You keep me at Headquarters all summer against my will," he said bitterly.

"You are a target, Harry. Voldemort would attempt to kill you the moment you left my protection. And then, there's the prophecy. We need to protect you, my boy. The restrictions on you are for your own good," the Headmaster said reasonably. "Your situation is much different than Hermione's."

"Hermione's situation is more important than mine, Headmaster. She's a Primordial. She will be the strongest witch in existence. She will be able to destroy Voldemort when she comes to full power. She could even rule the wizarding world herself and no one could stop her! No wizard. No army of wizards. You really expect me to believe that you would have let her go out on her own for even a month, much less a year? She is more important than anyone else in the wizarding world, Headmaster!" Harry yelled at him.

Dumbledore looked sad.

"I would have let her go home, Harry. You must believe me. But that is neither here nor there now. Voldemort has her and will use her powers against us if we don't do something about it, and soon," he said.

Harry looked at him, dawning realization on his face.

"What do you mean by 'something?'" Harry said, darkness falling across his face.

Dumbledore didn't answer him.

"What do you mean by 'something?'" Harry yelled at him.

"Miss Granger cannot be allowed to come to full power. We have to launch a full offensive against her and Voldemort as soon as possible," the Headmaster said quietly.

"Against Hermione? You want to kill her!" Harry screamed, leaping out of his chair, falling over the desk and grabbing Dumbledore by his robes.

The Headmaster remained outwardly calm as the boy gripped his robes. Inwardly he was fighting the urge to blast the impudent pup to wriggling pieces. But he needed the young wizard

"Harry, she is with the Dark Lord now. She is polluted and a danger to the wizarding world. We have to stop her before she becomes unstoppable," the Headmaster said, staring into Harry's eyes. "It's the only option we have."

Harry's eyes filled with angry tears. He released the Headmaster.

"It's not fair. You don't know for fact she's turned," he said.

Dumbledore met his eyes.

"But we can't take the risk, Harry. I'm sorry," he said.

"No you're not," Harry muttered.

He turned and left the office.

Dumbledore looked after him, his eyes hard. The young wizard was far too rebellious and far too loyal to Miss Granger for the Headmaster's tastes. Well, Harry would just have to live with this decision. It was final.

* * *

Harry stormed down the spiral staircase and ran through the corridors, his tears almost blinding him. He took the stairwells at a bound, jumping from the landings recklessly as he made his wall down to the main hall. He ran to the Great Hall and threw the doors open. 

He looked around, and his eyes fell on the Slytherin table. Draco Malfoy was there, surrounded by his goons, Crabbe and Goyle. Harry stood there, looking at the pureblood, his green eyes narrowed. Determinedly he walked over to the table and grabbed Malfoy by the shoulder.

"Hey!" Crabbe said, pushing him away.

"I need to talk to Draco," Harry said, his eyes on the blonde wizard.

Draco turned and looked up at him.

"Ah, Pottie. What could you possibly want to talk to me about? It's not like we're friends or anything," he drawled, "Even being seen talking to you could ruin my reputation."

"Fuck your reputation, Draco. I need to talk to you and I need to talk to you now!" Harry said.

Crabbe stood up. So did Goyle.

Harry whipped out his wand before either of them could move.

"I swear I will hex you both into next week if you don't back the fuck up from me now, and let me talk to Draco!" Harry hissed.

"Mister Potter! Put that wand away this instant!" Professor McGonagal's voice rang out from the High Table.

Draco was studying Harry. The wizard had a crazed look in his eyes. He had no doubt he would hex all three of them before McGonagal could get to them.

"Put it down, Potter. I'll talk to you. Stay here," Draco said to Crabbe and Goyle as he rose from the table. Harry put his wand away.

Draco stepped over the bench. He and Harry walked down the aisle and exited the Great Hall. Crabbe and Goyle looked at each other stupidly.

"Potter was pissed," Crabbe said.

"Yeah," Goyle agreed. "Hope Draco will be all right."

The two wizards looked at the doors the two wizards walked out of.

Harry led Draco away from the Great Hall to a quiet area. He cast a silencing charm around them.

Draco looked at him.

"What's this all about, Potter?" Draco asked, "What do you want?"

"I need to go to Voldemort," Harry said. "I know your father's a Death Eater, Malfoy. He could take me to him."

Draco's eyes widened.

"You want to go to Voldemort? Why, Potter? He'll kill you on sight," he said, frowning at the green-eyed wizard.

"He has Hermione," Harry replied.

Draco blinked at him.

"Voldemort has Granger? How'd he get her," Draco asked, interested.

"Snape took her," Harry said, scowling.

"Shit," Draco breathed, "So you're going to play hero again and try to get her out?"

"I don't know what I'm going to do. I just have to get there before…" Harry faltered.

"Before what, Potter?" Draco pressed.

"Before something awful happens. Please, Draco. I'm begging you. Tell your father I want him to take me to Voldemort," he said.

Draco looked at the pleading wizard. If his father brought Potter to Voldemort, he would be well rewarded, which in turn meant he'd be well rewarded.

He looked at Harry.

"Very well, Potter. I'll tell my father and see what he says. This better not be a setup. I'll get you if it is," Draco said, frowning at him.

"It's not, Draco…I swear. I just have to see Hermione. Talk to her," Harry said.

"It's going to be kind of hard to talk to her when you're dead," Draco observed, turning to go.

"Just let me worry about that," Harry said coldly, removing the silencing charm.

Both wizards walked back toward the Great Hall.

"My father's going to flip when he hears this," Draco thought to himself. "He's going to fucking flip."

* * *

Snape stalked back to Hermione's rooms. He didn't knock but walked right in, and planned to continue doing it. He had saved her after all, the ungrateful little chit. Now he was playing messenger boy for the Dark Lord. He sighed. He'd walk in, give her the message and walk right out before she found another way to toy with him. 

He hadn't realized that the Dark Lord's realm had the effect of increasing carnal urges. But it made sense. Initially he participated half-heartedly in the Revels, but after a while he began to enjoy them, and after that, crave them. Now he was a no holds barred sexual animal. Is this what would happen to Miss Granger? He had no doubt. He already had a taste of it this morning. He didn't want to admit to himself her taking charge had been very arousing, though he consciously attributed his massive hard-on to the thought of getting her back. Which he hadn't. He growled low in his throat. She'd want him to shag her sooner or later. Voldemort's guest or not, he'd make sure she had trouble walking.

Snape walked into her bedroom. The bed was empty, and the shower running. Without hesitation he entered the bathroom and turned toward the shower. The enclosure was made of glass, and he could see her standing just outside the spray, washing her nude body, a great amount of lather on her washcloth. But the way she was washing herself, he was sure it was not her usual method. It was more as if she were stimulating herself, massaging her breasts slowly, lingering over the hardened nipples, running the cloth slowly over her belly…

He watched fascinated as she lathered her body sensually. And when she washed between her legs…nothing should have taken that long. It was obvious she had climaxed, her head thrown back and mouth open, her belly contracting. Then she stepped back under the spray, turning slowly. Then her amber eyes widened with surprise when she saw him, then slitted. For a moment he was tempted to enter the shower fully clothed. He had just relieved himself with the Death Eater, but found he had another erection just watching her. It seemed that she was extremely susceptible to the magic of the Dark Lord's domain. This wasn't good. It could sidetrack her. He would have to tell her.

He watched as she stepped out of the shower. She didn't have any shyness in front of him all at as she reached for the towel and began to dry herself.

"Is there a reason you are here besides ogling me taking a shower, Professor?" she asked him. "I know you've had your little 'problem' taken care of. Are you always such a caveman?" she asked him, her amber eyes glittering with mirth.

Snape frowned.

"The Dark Lord would like for you to join him for breakfast in an hour. I suggest you wear something you brought from Hogwarts." he said evenly.

"Why? There are some beautiful dresses in my wardrobe that I'd love to wear," she said.

"You wear those dresses, Miss Granger, and you'll be taking them off in no time for the Dark Lord," he replied. "They're charmed to increase your sensuality…your libido. So are your nightgowns. Any articles of clothing provided for you are designed to make you increasingly randy, Miss Granger. Sooner or later you will end up shagging Voldemort," he said.

Hermione looked at him in shock.

"And if you think I'm brutal," Snape said silkily, "The Dark Lord has a tool that can wrap itself around you of its own volition. His appearance isn't the only thing about him that's snake-like."

Hermione looked at Snape in horror. She knew he was telling the truth. When she slipped her nightgown on the night before, it had felt too good against her skin not to be charmed. But she had thought it was just a charm on the fabric, but it was more like the garment had been dipped in a lust potion that reacted against the skin. The longer she spent in the gown, the more randy she became. That was why she had made Snape…

She looked at him with raised eyebrows for a moment, and decided not to apologize. Even if it was the nightgown…his attentions had been damn good. And the sense of control, awesome.

"I guess I'd better take to transfiguring my own clothing," Hermione said as she applied a drying spell to her hair. She was so preoccupied, she didn't realize she had done it wandlessly. Snape did, however. But he didn't say anything.

"Good idea," Snape replied, relieved. "Maybe duplicate the clothing you were given. That way you will not offend the Dark Lord. There is also the additional problem that the whole place is infused with magic that increases carnal urges. The only thing you can do about that is to exercise control."

Here, Snape's black eyes glittered at her. "You'll have to determine whether your desires are actual or inspired by the Dark Lord."

"How will I be able to tell?" she asked him, wrapping the towel around him and walking past into the bedroom. He followed her.

"I don't know. Maybe you should practice total abstinence," he smirked.

"I've tried that, believe me," she said, looking at him darkly. She couldn't resist him when her need came on her.

"I haven't touched you in a few days. You must be able to control it to some extent. Try to use your powers to quell it the next time you feel…indulgent," he said.

Hermione reached in her carry-all and retrieved a bra and knickers and put them on. She pulled out a t-shirt and walked over to the wardrobe, and took out a dress. She studied it for a bit, turning it this way and that. She looked at the t-shirt and concentrated. It changed to an exact replica.

"I did it!" she shrieked, dancing about with the dress. "I used my powers, Professor!"

The Potions Master looked at her. "That is fine and well, Miss Granger, but we need you to be able to do more than transfigure t-shirts."

"Maybe I can, but I need time to find out," Hermione said.

"I don't know how much time we have, Miss Granger. Albus is not going to stop trying to kill you. Actually, he is probably using every resource available to locate this stronghold. I would not be surprised if he started pulling suspected Death Eaters out of bed in the middle of the night and torturing them for information. I believe the Final Battle has been accelerated because of you."

"There won't be a Final Battle if I can help it," Hermione said, iron in her voice.

"Let's hope you can help it, then." Snape said as Hermione slipped on the dress. It was green and silver low cut and form fitting at the top and flared at the bottom. It fell over her hips nicely and swished fetchingly when she walked.

"Slytherin colors suit you Miss Granger," Snape said, eyeing her.

Hermione didn't respond as she transfigured her trainers to match her dress.

She spun in front of Snape.

"Do you think the Dark Lord will approve?" she asked him.

Snape ran his black eyes slowly over her, taking in every curve. He wished she had let him take her. She looked delicious.

"Yes. Most certainly. He is lusting after you, after all," Snape said, enjoying Hermione's shudder. "Don't worry. You have about a week before he'll start making his desire known."

"So I have a week to reach full power," Hermione said.

"A week to either reach full power or experience a new level of s-s-s-s-s-sexual pleas-s-s-sure," Snape lisped, smirking darkly.

Hermione scowled at him and exited her rooms, headed for breakfast with the Dark Lord.

* * *

Hermione entered the throne room to find Voldemort seated at a table covered in blue silk. Before him were several very small platters of food. Eggs, biscuits, ham, bacon, honey, strawberries and orange slices. There were also small pitchers of milk, orange juice and pumpkin juice. He rose when Hermione approached and moved fluidly toward her, his red eyes glittering as they swept over her, and slitting in approval before he pressed his thin lips to her hand and escorted her to the table. He pulled out her chair for her. She sat and he slid her closer to the table neatly. 

"Thank you, my Lord," Hermione said.

"You are welcome, Miss Granger," he replied, seating himself across from her. His fixed his red eyes to hers.

"You look lovely," Voldemort lisped.

Hermione lowered her eyes and blushed slightly at his compliment. Her response seemed to please him. He didn't generally associate with women who could still blush. He liked that she wasn't hardened yet. Snape, the brute that he was, hadn't yet ruined her.

"I hope you find the offerings acceptable," he said gesturing to the food on the table.

"Oh, this is fine my Lord. All my favorites," Hermione said. She licked her lips. She was very hungry. She looked at Lord Voldemort to see if he would begin serving.

"Ah, my dear…you go ahead and serve yourself what you like. I, myself do not partake of food such as this. I have other means of gaining sustenance," he said softly.

Hermione didn't want to think what that was. Actually it was a mixture of snake venom and various potions Snape had created for the Dark Lord. But Hermione had the gist of it. The ingredients of those potions had required the loss of innocent lives. "Small lives" as Voldemort liked to refer to muggles.

Hermione began to fill her plate, and ate heartily as the Dark Lord watched her. He studied her face. It was a lovely face, but intelligent also. She didn't have the vacuous look in her eyes that most of the women he had dealt with did. She was smart, this one. But young. So young. She was a small woman too. Small women were very pleasing to him sexually. They granted easy access and were easy to physically dominate and manipulate. He continued to watch her as she ate, occasionally looking up at him and smiling.

After Hermione had taken the edge off her hunger, she looked up at the Dark Lord.

"Everything is delicious, my Lord. Thank you for inviting me to breakfast," she said, smiling at the dark wizard.

"I am glad you enjoyed it, Miss Granger. Now that you have been fed, I am hoping you will feed my curiosity about you. Tell me about yourself. How you came to be in the wizarding world," he lisped.

Hermione told him how as a child, strange things would happen around her. Mirrors suddenly breaking, the telly turning on and off. Once a bully was thrown several feet when he yanked her hair. Things like that. The children used to call her "Stranger Granger". She had no friends, so she read everything she could get her hands on. Books were her only friends.

Her parents worried about her so much. She was so withdrawn and self-contained. One day, Albus Dumbledore showed up at her parent's flat with her letter to Hogwarts. He explained she was a witch, and had been accepted to Hogwarts. Her parents thought Albus was a nutter, until he took them to Hogwarts for a tour. She was enrolled.

Hermione hesitated. Harry was a large part of her life at Hogwarts, and she knew Voldemort hated him. The wizard noticed her hesitance.

"You may be candid, Miss Granger. I am well aware you are a friend of Harry Potter's. I will not hold that against you. I am very interested in how you met," he said, his red eyes meeting hers.

Hermione decided truthfulness was the best policy, and told him about being sorted into the same house, and meeting Harry and Ronald, the incident with the mountain troll that sealed their friendship and their adventures together. She also told of her classes, the subjects she'd studied, the growing responsibilities she had assigned to her. She left out her involvement with the Order however. Voldemort listened with rapt interest.

"And how did you find out you were a Primordial?" he asked.

"Strange things started happening around me. Things drying out at first. Then other things. Then I turned Ron's head into an ass's head after an argument. Harry helped me figure it out. I couldn't do wandless magic, and what I did do was spell-less as well. Only Primordials could do spell-less magic."

"You are only eighteen. A woman, but hardly mature. Most Primordials are well into their twenties before their powers began to manifest. What happened to speed up the process?" Voldemort asked, though he was aware it could only be one thing. Snape taking away her innocence.

"I believe it was my involvement with Professor Snape," Hermione said, blushing furiously, "he took my virginity."

"Surely, being deflowered for the first time removes some innocence, but it hardly matures you,' Voldemort said, pressing for more details.

Hermione blushed again, much deeper this time.

"The way the Professor took me, believe me, it matured me quickly," she said candidly.

Voldemort chuckled.

"Yes, Snape has never been what I would call a "tender" sort. I imagine your first night was a thorough and rather brutal education," he lisped. He felt a rise under his robes as he broached this subject.

"Yes," Hermione replied, wanting to get off this topic, as the Dark Wizard was looking at her rather hotly.

"Tell me about yourself, my Lord. I have been taught things…horrible things about you all my life. I would like to hear your take on who and what you are," she said earnestly.

The Dark Lord sat back and looked at the witch consideringly.

"Miss Granger, I adhere to the adage, 'To the strongest go the spoils'. I am also a sensualist and believe that personal pleasure is a worthy pursuit. My early life was a nightmare and I was orphaned at an early age. Orphans are never treated well, Miss Granger. They are denied even the basic necessities of life, five and six year old children worked like full grown men and women, becoming victims of crimes too hideous to describe, violations and molestations and have no one to voice the wrongs against them, despite the so-called government agencies meant to protect them. I felt powerless, and decided that I needed to become strong and claim the pleasures and spoils that the world had to offer. So I worked at it, Miss Granger, and earned the respect of others that were downtrodden. I lifted them up, showed them the power that could be theirs if they cast aside their preconceived notions of right and wrong, and focused on the self.

"I am a half-blood, Miss Granger, but discovered the weakest in the wizarding world were the purebloods. Generations of inbreeding and comfort had weakened them, and what they considered riches were not riches at all. I showed them a new way, and they flocked to me, hungry for the power and the pleasure and the freedom I could give to them if they only obeyed me. My Death Eaters were formed. We dabbled in the old arts, searching for the key to immortality, that is how the name "Death Eater" came into being. We were targeted for our beliefs. We did not look for heaven as our place of reward, Miss Granger, we sought our rewards here, on earth. We were deemed anarchists and atheists, because we did not believe in organized government which only bred vice and political avarice, or religion, which only restricts men and women from enjoying life and saddles them with guilt."

Voldemort took a deep breath, and continued.

"My Death Eaters were attacked in the streets, in the newspapers, and on the wireless. They were disrespected and degraded. War was declared upon us, Miss Granger, simply because we believed differently and exercised our Slytherin tendencies boldly, although not all my Death Eaters are Slytherins."

"Since all of my Death Eaters were purebloods and muggle-borns not admitted entrance to our assembly because they were not weak, did not share the same history and gene pool as the purebloods, we were deemed a hate group. But we should have been entitled to admit whom we want to our own private gatherings. So problems with muggles and muggle-borns began as well, the muggle parents and relatives of muggle-born children targeting us, protesting us, attacking us, and beating us in the streets. So we fought back, and in the process gained the name of being evil, when evil was done against us."

Here, the wizard paused, and wiped his face with his scaly hand.

"Eventually, even the mark my Death Eaters carried was cause for arrest and Azkaban, sometimes without trial, their souls taken by Dementors. Albus Dumbledore led the persecution against us. Over time, constant persecution will make anyone lose his hold. Tired of being called evil, I became evil incarnate, driven to it by the unfair practices of the wizarding world. Now I strike at those who would strike at me and mine first. But I still have my dreams of complete freedom from organized government and religious beliefs. People could live freely and happily without such weights around their necks. But there are those, like Albus Dumbledore who refuse to relinquish power to the masses, where it rightfully belongs. They want to keep all chained to the machine while they work the buttons, Miss Granger and reap all the glory."

Voldemort looked at Hermione piercingly.

"My fight is the fight for freedom, where all can follow their own path without restrictions and without restraint. Those who are strong will gain the most of course, but those who have less will find the means to survive as well, naturally falling into their roles as do all things in nature. Even the blackest heart longs for freedom, Miss Granger. Believe me when I say I do not want to rule the world, I want to free it.. It is the so-called "Light" that seeks to control every aspect of human existence."

The wizard leaned forward, his red eyes glittering.

"You yourself have been a victim of that machine. They have directed your life, raped you for your intelligence, heaped unfair responsibilities upon you, and when you sought to follow your own path, they tried to kill the people you loved so you would have no where to go, and now hunt you like an animal because you would not submit to their directives and forced destiny. Yes, I know you were being groomed to serve the Order, Miss Granger, and now that that brush has slipped from their hands, they will not let you live. I believe you have a right to live, Miss Granger, but they will not allow you to. You will have to fight for your right to be. To exist, the same as I do. I am hoping we can end this unfairness together, Miss Granger. I hope that when the time comes to face the forces of the "Light" you will be on my side."

Hermione looked at him. "I've never heard this side of your story. You've given me much to think about my Lord," she said carefully, not wanting to commit herself.

Voldemort looked at her, his eyes slightly hard.

"You think about it, Miss Granger. Think about how you yourself have been rewarded for your loyalty. For your obedience. For your trust. You've been pulled up by the roots, and forced to flee everything you've known and loved. You can't even visit your parents now. You have been marked for death. Even you cannot justify the 'Light' in the face of all this wrongness. You have a decision to make, Miss Granger, and I give you the freedom to make it. That is more than anyone in the magical world has ever done for you."

Voldemort rose, and walked around to help her from her seat. He faced her, his red eyes meeting hers.

"Thank you, Miss Granger for hearing me out. I am tired now, and must nourish myself. Please return to your rooms and make use of them," he said. "The throne room will be available in an hour or so. You are welcome to return then, if you like."

Hermione curtsied.

"Thank you, my Lord," she said. Voldemort kissed her hand once more. This time she didn't have to fight a shudder.

"Miss Granger," he lisped, releasing her hand. He tiredly walked to his throne and sat heavily upon it.

"Peter!" he called.

The plump little Death Eater seemed to appear out of nowhere. He bowed deeply.

"Yes my Lord?" he squeaked.

Hermione returned to her rooms, dropped to the living room couch and stared into space.

She had much to think about.

* * *

Snape lay on his bed in his small room, his arms locked behind his head, looking up at the ceiling. Even though he was the current Most Favored Death Eater, his lodgings still sucked. He had a twin-sized bed, a dresser, a wardrobe, a wooden chair and an end table. His bathroom had a sink, cheap loo and a shower with a curtain. The walls were bare, and he kept a minimal amount of clothing here. Nothing like Miss Primordial's lush dwellings. 

He wondered how Miss Granger's breakfast with Voldemort was going. No doubt the Dark Lord was regaling her with his bullshit "Freedom Fighter" spiel. It worked almost every time. He hoped she didn't fall for it and decide to side with the Dark Lord. He would never be free of the despot if that happened. He turned over uncomfortably in the tiny bed.

Dumbledore would be scouring his rooms for clues by now. He wouldn't find any. He wouldn't find any potions of merit either. He had cleared out his stores of his most important brews. His own. If he could ever get free of this insanity, he'd do well selling his work. He'd probably become a rich man and spend the rest of his life shagging the shit out of gold diggers. He could live with that.

So much hinged on Miss Granger coming to full power. Her transformation of the dress had been a good start. He figured Albus would be on them within the next two weeks or so. Snape smirked to himself. He had finally royally screwed the old bastard, and it felt damn good. He suffered greatly because of him, and was never once thanked for it. Just sent back for more of the same punishment. The Headmaster was probably frothing at the mouth to kill him. Hopefully, he would never get the chance. Hopefully Hermione would decide that both he and Voldemort needed to be eliminated, and would do so with dispatch. He thought he might have helped darken that soft soul a bit. She had certainly shown more backbone over the past few weeks.

Imagine, she ordered him to service her. A few weeks ago she would have never dreamed of forcing him to do such a humiliating act. Not that he hadn't enjoyed it. The Primordial had the sweetest trim he had ever tasted. It was just the fact that he had to obey her that rankled him so badly. He had told her about the charmed clothing and the aura of carnality, but he wondered if she would still make him sleep in the armchair. Hmm. If he transfigured something into an ottoman, it wouldn't be so bad actually. Better than the fucking bed he had now.

Suddenly a house elf winked into his room, trembling badly.

"Excuse me, sir, but the Miss would like to see you in her rooms as soon as possible," Hansel said, ducking his head at giving Snape an order from the witch. Snape had a bad temper, and he had kicked the elf on more than one occasion.

"I'll be there," Snape growled at the elf, "Now get out of here."

Hansel winked out, relief all over his wizened face.

Snape rolled to the edge of the bed and sat up. He stretched and rose.

What did she want now? Hopefully some hot and ready wand.

* * *

Hermione sat on the sofa in the living room, waiting for Professor Snape to arrive. She needed to talk to him about what Voldemort told her about his past and his motives for fighting against the 'Light'. She knew the Dark Lord had sugarcoated the truth. She had seen the mutilated bodies of muggles who were used at the Dark Revels, and left in open places to be found. It was horrible to think the torn and broken corpses were actually alive when brought to that condition. And Professor Snape was part of that. She shuddered. But she realized Snape had been immersed in Voldemort's carnality enhancement spell for many, many years. If he had not been exposed to it, would he be the same man he was today? He'd probably be sarcastic, snarky and cold as that seemed to be his real personality, but not a rapist and murderer. Dumbledore had a lot to do with the way he was, reinforcing the wizard's cruelty by treating him cruelly as he served the Order. 

The door opened and the Potions Master walked in. He was pale, limping slightly, and clutching himself. Hermione immediately rose, alarmed.

"What happened, Professor?" she asked as she walked over and helped him into a soft armchair.

His black eyes met hers. They were accusing.

"What happened, Miss Granger, is that you sent for me when the Dark Lord was being fed. He doesn't like anyone to see him when he takes his elixir. He has terrible seizures. Even though I created the brew, and have seen the convulsions that occur on numerous occasions, he was not happy with my intrusion and gave me a healthy dose of the Cruciatus curse," Snape said, grimacing a little as an aftershock hit him.

"Oh, Professor, I'm so sorry," Hermione said, her amber eyes full of guilt and concern.

"Sorry doesn't cut it," Snape said, trying to turn his condition to his advantage, "You should let me ream you for what I just went through for you."

Hermione looked at him, her eyebrow arching.

"In your condition?" she asked.

"I don't mean right now. I mean tonight," he said, wincing against an aching jolt that shot through him.

"Professor, you just had a woman less than three hours ago," Hermione said frowning at him.

"Yes, but I want you," Snape replied, his black eyes hot, before he shuddered and pain filled them.

Hermione was filled with sympathy for the Potions Master, even if he were trying to use guilt to make her spread her legs for him. She hadn't known Voldemort would Crucio the Professor, but she felt responsible just the same. She placed her hands on his chest.

"What do you think you are doing, Miss Granger?" he growled at her as he spasmed.

"Shhh," Hermione said as she willed his pain to be taken away. She felt the power flow through her, not so much a raging torrent…more like a stream. Calmer.

Snape stopped shuddering immediately. He looked up at her.

"Your powers?" he asked her, sitting up in the chair straighter as she took away her hands.

She nodded.

"Impressive," Snape mused, "stopping the effects of the Cruciatus that quickly is a miracle. You are becoming quite powerful if you can neutralize an Unforgivable."

His eyes swept over her.

"But I still suffered for you. I should be recompensed," he said, licking his lips.

"You just were. I took the pain away," Hermione said, turning away and returning to the sofa.

"Yes, but that didn't cancel out what I went through. You only removed the pain that you caused me," he said evenly.

"All right. How about this? We'll see. It's not a yes, but it's not a no either," Hermione said, looking at him levelly. If she did this, she'd make him share her bed too. She didn't want to be alone. A warm body was a warm body, even if it belonged to Snape.

The Potions Master looked at her, his eyes heated.

"I'll accept that for now, Miss Granger," he said, "Now why did you want to see me?"

"At breakfast, Voldemort gave me a version of his history that I have never heard, one that paints him and his Death Eaters as being unfairly persecuted for their beliefs, and claimed that persecution caused him to change his tactics and become the Dark Lord everyone initially accused him of being. He was very persuasive, Professor. He cited my own situation, and wants me to join him to fight the Order when it comes for him and me. It makes sense to fight them, Professor. They won't let me survive," she said, twisting the hem of her dress between her hands nervously. Snape looked at her, then rose.

"Let me see your conversation with him, Miss Granger," he said approaching her.

Hermione stood up, and Snape placed two fingers against her forehead for a more secure connection.

"Legilimens!" he said.

Snape stood there a long time watching the conversation between the Primordial and the Dark Lord until it finished. He removed his hand and frowned down at the witch.

"What he told you, Miss Granger, is a very twisted version of the truth. He is no freedom fighter. He wants the wizarding world in chaos so it will be easier to control. 'To the stronger go the spoils' simply means he will get everything. If people were allowed to live without restraint, the stronger would prey on the weaker, and enslave them to their own uses. Men are not like animals, Miss Granger. We do not fall into "natural roles'. Animals are content with their lot. Men never are. Voldemort is against government, because it checks and balances power. He is against religion because faith gives people a sense there is something more to life. Many find great inner strength, and are able to recognize and resist evil because of this faith. Miss Granger, do not be swayed by the Dark Lord. He covets your power, and you are in as much danger from him as you are from the Order. He is only another side of the same coin."

Snape looked down at the witch, and became irritated with the way she was twisting her dress hem in her hands like a nervous child. He pulled the fabric out of her hands with a scowl.

"You cannot become overwhelmed or afraid Miss Granger. You will die if you do, I guarantee this. So will I. And as I have risked everything to bring you to this point, it is my sincere hope my efforts have not been wasted. That you were worth my risk. You told me once you had no intention on being controlled. Stick to that sentiment, Miss Granger. therein lies your answer and your salvation," Snape said, his black eyes burning into hers.

Hermione turned away from him, from the candor in his eyes. She wished Snape was the kind of man who would hold and comfort a woman. She was very much in need of sympathetic human contact. A pair of strong arms wrapped around her would make her feel so much better. Would make her feel less alone.

Snape looked at her. He had not yet broken his legilimency link and knew the Primordial's thoughts. He sighed. He was not the kind of man who comforted a woman. He was the kind of man who would shag a distraught woman into conniptions. If he put his arms around Hermione, it would only be to maneuver her into a position where he could have at her. He was not about to pretend to be what he was not for her. She would have to draw on her own inner strength. It was something that she needed to practice anyway. She really was alone in this. He would not give her the illusion she was not. All he could offer her was momentary escape.

"Miss Granger, I cannot comfort you the way you need. I do not have the emotional ability or the inclination, and I will not pretend I do to bring you a false sense of ease. You must learn to draw on your own strength for comfort. You are truly alone in this. No one can extricate you from your situation but you," he said, reaching out and taking Hermione by the shoulders and turning her to face him.

"All I can offer you is a temporary reprieve, Miss Granger. And you are well aware how I do that. Brutally, selfishly, and with the goal of my own satisfaction. I am not even able to be gentle with you. But I can take your mind away from this via your body. That is all I have to offer you in your time of need," he said, his black eyes glinting at her.

Hermione looked up at him, taking in his cold offer of physical comfort. Her eyes narrowed slightly as she gave him a considering look. If he could act with the goal of his own satisfaction, so could she.

"I could order you to be gentle with me, Professor," she said slowly, "I could even order you to kiss me during the act, and pretend you are my lover. You would have to do it," she said evenly, "or Voldemort would be displeased with you."

Snape frowned at her. "You would have me tortured by the Dark Lord if I refused you?" he said, cocking his head at her.

Hermione gave him a small smile.

"Professor, it would be up to you whether or not you incurred Voldemort's wrath by purposely disobeying him. I heard the conversation, Professor. You said you would keep me happy," she said. "Not keep me happy on your own terms."

The Professor scowled at the witch. She was not under the influence of the charmed nightgown, and she was aware of the carnality influence. In all actuality, he had brought up the subject of shagging her to make her temporarily forget her situation. She didn't have such a thing in her mind before he suggested it. She really was a manipulative little witch at heart. And she was right. If he didn't obey her, it would be his own fault if the Dark Lord punished him.

Hermione clasped her hands behind her back and began to walk around the Professor slowly.

"Now, the real questions are, would I be satisfied with you pretending to be a gentle, caring lover? Would it feel any less good to me if I knew it was all a lie and you were actually being forced to act in a way that is against your true nature?

Should I take into consideration how you would feel being forced to restrain yourself with me? Should I care about how distasteful it would be for you to have to kiss me? Then I ask myself the question, would YOU care if the situation was reversed?"

She stopped and looked at the Professor with hard amber eyes.

"Answer that question, Professor. If the broom were in the other hand, would you care about such things?" Hermione asked him, folding her arms.

Snape looked at her.

"If my goal was my own self-satisfaction, Miss Granger…I would have to say no. I wouldn't care about any of that. I would seek out the fulfillment of my own needs, the feelings of the other party be damned." he replied tightly

Hermione tapped her chin with her forefinger, looking up at him.

"I thought as much. At least you are honest, Professor," she said as she began to walk around him again.

"So, what do you suppose I'm going to do?" she asked him, quirking her mouth.

* * *

A/N: Ah, a dilemma. Thanks for reading. More to come. 


	11. Chapter 11

**Inside the Blackest Heart Part 11**

"I'm sure I don't know what you intend to do, Miss Granger," Snape replied

She looked at him hard for a moment, then sighed.

"Even though I know you wouldn't hesitate to force your will on me, Professor…I can't bring myself to do such a thing to you, as deserving as you are of a taste of your own brew. My whole life in the wizarding world was based on manipulation. That is why I am in the situation I am now, because I wanted to be free of it."

"You've had to serve others against your will for years, and told me your only desire is to be free of Masters. I won't become another one to you, no matter how tempting it is. It isn't right to take away another's freedom of choice, especially for selfish reasons."

Hermione looked thoughtful for a moment, then said, "I suppose if I want to know what it is to have a man treat me with gentleness during sex, I could seek out another deatheater, maybe one who is married. He would have been tender with his wife. I could ask him to be as tender with me as he would be with her."

Snape looked at her. Another deatheater? He felt an unpleasant tightening in his chest as he watched her considering letting another man possess her. It was her right of course. He certainly didn't have any qualms about shagging other women, and in fact had indulged himself since breaking the Primordial in, without any guilt. But it bothered him that she thought another man could give her what he couldn't. It cut right into his ego.

Hermione summoned the house elves. They winked in, smiling until they saw Snape. They began to quiver with fear.

"What's wrong?" she asked them.

The elves didn't reply. They simply looked at Snape with flattened ears and continued to shake. Snape didn't help. He fixed both the elves with his blackest scowl.

Hermione turned to look at the Potions Master.

"Stop scaring them!" she said to him irritatedly, "they're my servants and I don't want them feeling menaced. Now, stop Professor."

Snape looked at her, and set his face in a neutral expression, though his eyes still glinted at the elves a bit.

"He's not going to hurt you," Hermione said soothingly to the elves, "I won't let anyone hurt you in my presence. I promise you."

The two elves stopped trembling so violently.

"H-how may we be of service, Miss?" Hansel asked, his eyes still flicking toward Snape.

"I was wondering if you could get me a list of married male deatheaters. Preferably those whose wives are not servants of the Dark Lord," she said. "The most recently married listed first."

Hansel looked thoughtful for a moment.

"Yes, Miss. We can do that," he said.

"Well please do, as soon as possible," Hermione said, smiling at him.

The elves winked out. Severus' scowl returned to his face. She was really going to do this. And in her normal, calculating way. If the wives weren't servants of the Dark Lord, more than likely they did not have the twisted sexuality of deatheater females, so their husbands would have to relate to them in a 'normal' fashion, so were capable of being gentle, thoughtful lovers.

"Doesn't it bother you that you are thinking of sleeping with a married man?" he asked tightly.

"Not really. They all participate in the Revels I imagine. I'm not so big on guilt as I used to be, Professor. My needs are more important to me then they once were, particularly since I might not be on earth much longer," she replied non-chalantly, surprising herself.

"So what do you plan to do once you get this list?" Snape asked her, his eyes hard as diamonds.

Hermione sat on the sofa.

"Ask Voldemort to summon the ones I am considering, and have interviews with them. I'll pick the one that appeals to me the most," she said, "plus it will give me something interesting to do."

Hermione was reverting to her research mode. She still clung to the idea that everything could be sorted out logically. Even choosing a deatheater to engage.

"Don't you think it could be the aura of this place making you want to do this?" Snape asked, his brow furrowing, "the Dark Lord's carnality spell could be affecting you."

"It could be, Professor. But I'm curious to see what it is like to be made love to, instead of being pummeled within an inch of my life. I'd like to know what it would be like to be kissed all over, to be touched and caressed…to have real foreplay, something other than unresolved lust like I had with you. I would be curious about that even without the influence of the spell. Of course I am hoping for a powerful lover when it comes to the act itself, because that is what I like, but one who will take time to make me feel beautiful and wanted."

"I make you feel wanted," Snape said, his voice low, "you can't say I don't."

Hermione gave him a small, tight smile.

"Yes you do, Professor. You make it very clear that you want to get inside me. But with you I might as well be one big orifice than a woman. You are only interested in dominating me and using my body as thoroughly as possible. You know that, Professor. It's the way you are. I don't blame you for that. I just want to experience something more than a good hard shagging," she said. "The only way I could do that with you is to order it. And I won't do that. This is my only other option. Let's face it Professor, you aren't versatile enough to meet my every need. You are simply too selfish."

Snape felt insulted. He made her climax, didn't he? Numerous times, too. All the rest of what she was referring to all really led up to that, to the orgasm. He just went directly to the objective. To get pleasure from her body, come and make her come. Yes, he was selfish, but he was thorough enough that she wasn't left behind. He continued to scowl.

"You don't look happy about this, Professor," she observed, her amber eyes narrowed slightly. Was he jealous? No, he couldn't be. He shared women with other deatheaters all the time. He had made it plain to her that to him she was just like any other woman.

"I just think it's foolish. I can give you what you need, Miss Granger," he said, frowning at her. "I know what you need."

"No, you think you know what I need. I just told you I needed more than you can give me, Professor," Hermione said tightly. "Anyway, you suggested I find another deatheater to do me. You said it would be safer," she retorted.

He just looked at her. It was true. He had planned to give her the ride of her life if he got hold to her, but he never dreamed she'd actually consider taking on another wizard. He realized he didn't want anyone else to take her. He had no right to feel that way, and he didn't have any particular affection for her…but he was the first one to do her. She was a Primordial, destined to be the most powerful witch in existence and only he had touched her. That pleased him as well as elevated him in the eyes of others. Even the Dark Lord envied him. If he let Miss Granger shag another deatheater, he would lose his status. No doubt she would lose something too.

The Dark Lord would probably target her immediately if he found out she was looking for another lover. As cold as he was, even Snape wouldn't wish that on the witch. Voldemort was a true deviant, and a chance to dominate a Primordial would bring out the worst in him. By the time he was finished with her, Miss Granger would probably have taken a Wizard's Oath to serve him in order to stop the pain. A Primordial probably would be as bound by the Oath as an ordinary wizard or witch, since it too was primal magic. Plus, he didn't want to take the chance she wasn't yet strong enough to protect herself from Voldemort if placed in that position.

Snape was not a wizard to make concessions. But in this case, it was in his own self-interest to do so. What she wanted went against his nature, but if she followed the path she was on, eventually Voldemort would have her in a position that could ruin his plans for good. If playing the attentive lover would help him reach his ultimate goal, then that's what he'd do. At least it was his choice. He took a deep breath.

"Miss Granger, I wish you would reconsider this idea," he said to her.

"Why?" Hermione asked.

"Because…because…I would be willing to do what you want done," Snape replied, looking very put out about his concession.

"You look like someone's twisting your arm, Professor," Hermione commented on the pained look on his face, "why the turn around?"

"Suffice it to say, Miss Granger, that you have made me feel rather inadequate," Snape lied, "I think that I can supply the extras you need to feel…fulfilled. All I need is the opportunity."

Hermione cocked her head at him.

"You just don't want anyone else to have me," she said, her eyebrows raised.

"This is true. You afford me some status among the ranks, Miss Granger. If another deatheater were to have you, that status would be lost," he said. Well, it was a partial truth. No need to put her more on edge by telling her what her search for another deatheater would mean to Voldemort.

"So, your motive is purely selfish, rather than just giving in to what I want," she mused.

"Yes. Exactly, Miss Granger. I am willing to 'take time' as you said. That in turn should sate your curiosity. And as to your wish for a powerful lover during the act, we both know where we stand there," he said smoothly.

He could still ride the shit out of her afterwards. It made the concession easier to take.

"And you would kiss me?" she asked him, her amber eyes searching his face, "Caress me? Give me real foreplay?"

Snape sighed.

"Yes, Miss Granger. All the little nuances that go along with this kind of thing," he replied.

Hermione snickered at the way he said "this kind of thing" as if it were totally distasteful. But he was willing even if for his own reasons, and wasn't a stranger to her. That would have been the only hitch about having sex with another man. And she knew he met her need for domination.

Hansel winked back in, holding a rather long list in his claw.

"I have the list you asked for Miss. There are over two hundred deatheaters that meet your specifications," the elf said, holding the list out to her. Hermione took it and looked it over. Snape tensed a bit. Was she still going to go through with this madness?

"Thank you, Hansel. You may go," she said to the elf, who smiled with delight at being thanked again. He winked out.

Hermione eyed Snape again.

"Do you even know how to kiss?" she asked him.

Snape snorted indignantly.

"Of course I know how to kiss. I wasn't always a deatheater," he spat.

Hermione looked doubtful.

"Yes, but you've been a deatheater longer than you haven't been one," she responded. "You may have forgotten how to kiss a woman with…tenderness," she replied.

Snape stalked over to the sofa she was sitting on.

"Stand up," he said, his eyes hard.

Hermione took a little too long, so he yanked her up by her arm.

He stared down at her, anger written all over his pale face, his black eyes glinting. Hermione thought he couldn't possibly be gentle or tender looking like he was.

But she was wrong.

Snape leaned and captured her lips in a soft, warm kiss, gently sucking on her lower lip, then moving his mouth against hers slowly and sensually. Hermione closed her eyes against the sweetness, and felt warmth spreading throughout her body. He pulled away, looking at her with the same hardness in his black eyes. Hermione swayed toward him a bit, before opening her eyes.

"Wow," she said, looking at him and wanting another kiss, "How about open-mouth kisses? Are you good at those, too?"

Snape considered the witch, and smirked.

"You will have to see when we commence on your little fantasy, Miss Granger. I am not about to start something that won't be finished…unless, you want this now," he said, moving closer to her, his body barely touching hers.

She could feel his body heat through his robes, and felt like she was melting. But if this were going to happen, she wanted plenty of time for it to unfold. Tonight would be better. She backed away from him with some difficultly.

"No…tonight," she said a little breathlessly. Snape lifted an eyebrow.

"Very well, then. Tonight, Miss Granger," he said. Then he looked at the list in her hand.

"What do you intend on doing with that list? You have no need of it now," he said.

Hermione smiled at him wickedly.

"I'm going to keep it, just in case you can't deliver," she responded.

He leaned toward her so his lips were close to her ear.

"Oh, I will deliver all right, Miss Granger. Let's just hope you can receive the package," he whispered silkily, his warm breath tickling her ear.

He drew back and looked down at her. Hermione felt wetness trickling between her thighs.

Snape smirked knowingly at her, turned in a billow of robes and exited her rooms.

Hermione stared after him.

She didn't think tonight would come fast enough.

* * *

When Draco returned to Slytherin house, he went directly to his room, closed and warded the door, and placed a silencing charm around the room. Satisfied he was secured, he went to his wardrobe, and took a small two-way mirror out of a robes pocket. He walked to his bed and sat down on the edge of it. He held the mirror up.

"Lucius Malfoy," he said.

He waited a few moments, and the handsome face of his father appeared in the mirror. He was frowning.

"What is it Draco? I told you not to use the mirror unless it was an emergency. I was in a meeting with the Minister of Magic when you called, and was forced to leave early. This better be worth my while or I promise you…"

"It is father!" Draco said eagerly, "Potter wants you to take him to the Dark Lord,"

Lucius blinked at Draco a few times, then stuck a finger in his ear and wriggled it as if it were clogged and he didn't hear his son clearly.

"Come again?" Lucius said, a perplexed look on his face.

"I said Harry Potter wants you to take him to the Dark Lord, father," Draco repeated impatiently.

"Potter? Why?" asked Lucius, looking suspicious.

"Because the Dark Lord has his friend, Hermione Granger. I think he wants to try and save her," Draco said excitedly.

"Most likely the boy would be killed immediately," Lucius said, "Why would he risk himself?"

"Because he's an idiot with a hero complex. I don't know why, but he is serious, father. He wants you to take him," Draco said, "Imagine the reward you'd receive."

Lucius' ice-blue eyes narrowed. He could ask a boon of the Dark Lord if he delivered Potter. He knew just what he'd ask for. Narcissa to be put off-limits to other deatheaters. Joel had bruised her body quite badly when he took her. Lucius loved his wife, even though they both had other lovers from time to time. They never disrespected each other in public and were discreet in their affairs, never flaunting them. It was an odd relationship, but it worked well for them, and they still enjoyed each other immensely. Seeing his wife like that tore at Lucius' heart. He swore Joel would pay, but he would like to insure it never happened again.

"Tell Potter to meet me at the Hogwarts gates at six tomorrow evening, Draco," Lucius said, "I will talk to the boy and see what this is about, if he is sincere. If he is…"

"Yes father, I will tell him right away," said Draco, smiling evilly. No doubt the Dark Lord would acknowledge his part in delivering Potter to him, and the Boy Who Lived would finally be out of his hair for good.

"You do that Draco. You've done well," his father said, fading from the mirror as Draco swelled with pride.

"You're an ass Potter," Draco said to himself, "I'm surprised you lasted this long."

* * *

It didn't take long for the news to spread that Hermione Granger, Hogwarts' Golden Girl had gone over to the other side with Professor Snape. The halls were abuzz . Students were gathered in small groups discussing the Head Girl's fall into darkness. Professor McGonagal was in shock, being treated by Pomfrey in the infirmary. The Gryffindors were all in denial. It couldn't be. Not Hermione. Not Potter's best friend.

The Slytherins were ecstatic about the news, gloating publicly that a Gryffindor had been drawn to the side of the Dark Lord. A few duels had broken out between Slytherins and Gryffindors, but were broken up without incident.

Harry stayed in his room, Ron with him. Ron was just flabbergasted. He couldn't believe Hermione would change sides like that.

"Why would she do it, Harry?" he asked the silent wizard brooding the next bed over.

"She wouldn't Ron. If Hermione is really with Voldemort, she's there for a good reason. Maybe to destroy him."

"But you think she would of told us, Harry," Ron said, scowling, "she would've said something. And to run off with Snape! That greasy git. She hated him."

Harry didn't want to tell Ron that Hermione had been shagging the Potions Master. Ron would have exploded, and in his anger, probably would have said something about Hermione that would cause them to fistfight or even duel. Harry wasn't up to that right now. He was sick to his stomach. Dumbledore planned on killing Hermione. He turned over and looked at Ron.

"I talked to the Headmaster this morning, Ron. They want to kill Hermione before she comes to full power as a Primordial. Now the Order is after Voldemort and her," Harry said, his eyes sober.

Ron turned several colors.

"They want to k-kill her?" he asked, "Why kill her. Can't they arrest her and find out why she did what she did?"

"No, she'll be too powerful. Even if she had a good reason for going to Voldemort, the Order would kill her because she doesn't want to serve them. She wants to live her own life," Harry said, shaking his head.

"I never thought I'd ever see the day I didn't want to be a member of the Order," Ron said quietly, "I've wanted to join them since I was a fourth year. Now, I don't know…it seems so unfair what they are doing. Hunting down Hermione like a criminal."

"I just wish I knew why she left with Snape. Dumbledore says Snape persuaded her somehow," Harry said, rolling over in his bed, and running his hand through his unruly black hair.

"What could Snape have possibly said to her, Harry?" Ron asked

Harry didn't know. All he knew was the night she left he woke up on the floor by the dungeon corridor entrance. The last thing he remembered was leaving his surveillance spot by Snape's rooms after seeing Hermione go in after her rounds and not emerge again, like she had done the previous two nights. She hadn't looked any different, and didn't have any things with her. He had felt out of sorts as he made his way back. Maybe he had fainted. But the way he woke up on the floor like that, left him feeling something wasn't right about it.

Suddenly a folded paper airplane flew in through the open window and landed on Ron's bed. Ron picked it up.

"What's this?" he asked, unfolding the plane. He looked at it, and turned purple.

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL!" he yelled, staring at the parchment. Harry sat up on his bed.

"What is it, Ron?" Harry asked.

Ron continued staring at the parchment, his eyes tearing, his mouth set in a grim line. He handed the parchment to Harry, and watch him as the green-eyed wizard looked at it and blanched.

It was a rather realistic drawing of Snape and Hermione. They were shagging in the Potions classroom, Hermione bent over Snape's desk. It was a wizard's drawing so it moved, Hermione's mouth forming an "O" every time the Professor entered her. There was a caption that read "The Head Girl Taking Snape's Head." Harry sighed and shook his head, crumpling up the parchment, taking out his wand and setting it aflame.

"What the bloody hell was that, Harry? Are they saying Hermione was letting Snape shag her? Is that true? It can't be true, can it?" Ron asked his friend, looking for some confirmation that it couldn't be. When Harry didn't say anything, and wouldn't look at him, Ron recoiled in horror. He'd known Harry long enough to tell when he was trying to hide something from him.

"It's true, isn't it Harry?" he said in a deceptively low voice, "Hermione was shagging Snape, wasn't she? And he turned her."

"No!" Harry said, "he didn't turn her!"

"But he was doing her wasn't he?" Ron asked him, staring at his friend, daring him to lie to him.

"I think it's possible, Ron. But I don't know for sure," Harry said evasively.

"Why do you think it's possible?" Ron asked him with narrowed eyes.

Harry told Ron how he had followed Hermione for three nights, and how all three nights she entered Snape's rooms and didn't leave. She'd spent the night.

"Fuck, Harry! Why didn't you tell me?" Ron yelled at him

"What would you have done, Ron? Asked Hermione was she shagging the Potions Master in front of the whole school? Challenged Professor Snape to a duel for her honor? Hermione is the age of consent, Ron. She can sleep with who she wants!" Harry said evenly, "It wasn't my place to tell you, when I hadn't even asked her what was going on yet. Unlike you Ron, I try to find out the truth before I make my accusations," Harry said darkly.

"We could have found out what she was doing with him down there in that bat's cave all night!" Ron said, "We could've made her tell us. Then we could've told Dumbledore and gotten the git fired. He never could have taken her then!"

"Dumbledore already knew about them," Harry said quietly.

"WHAT?" Ron shouted.

"The Headmaster knew about them and confronted them, but neither would agree to stop," Harry said. "Since Hermione is the age of consent, there was nothing Dumbledore could do."

"Bloody hell, Snape probably gave her a potion or something. Hermione would never be attracted to someone as ugly and old as he is," Ron said.

"Professor Snape is brilliant too, Ron. Maybe that's why she was with him. No one else her age could keep up with her mind," Harry said, searching for straws. "Besides, her dad is twenty years older than her mum. She doesn't have a problem with age differences."

"Just because someone is smart and older is no reason to shag them, Harry," Ron said.

"Ron, it was her decision," Harry said.

"And look where it got her. Now she's serving Voldemort," Ron spat.

Harry sat up in his bed, and looked at Ron murderously.

"You take that back," he said evenly.

"I won't," Ron said angrily, "Hermione was nothing more than the Professor's slu…"

He never got a chance to finish the sentence. Harry flew from the bed and punched Ron in the mouth as hard as he could, knocking him off the bed and on to the floor.

Ron popped back up. He wiped his mouth and blood was on his hand. He looked at Harry with narrowed eyes.

"You shouldn't have done that Harry. Not for her…what she did, with him…she's not worth it," Ron said, standing up and walking toward Harry with his fists balled. Harry raised his fists in a defensive position.

"Some kind of fucking friend you are, Ron. Hermione does something you don't approve of and you turn on her. Call her names. Accused her of joining Voldemort. So what she did Snape? It was her business, not ours. Not yours." Harry said, moving slightly to the left as Ron approached him.

Ron charged and caught Harry around the middle, bringing him to the floor hard. Both wizards started wrestling and swinging, connecting with whatever part of the other's body they could. Harry scrambled from beneath Ron and punched him in the eye as he struggled to get up. Ron gave him a good uppercut to the stomach, and Harry doubled over as Ron stood up, breathing heavily.

"Yeah, but it makes sense she'd turn after sucking Snape's c…" Ron sneered

Harry hit him again and again, throwing a flurry of blows at his friend, who threw his arms over his head to protect his face from the irate young wizard's attack. Finally Harry backed off of him, tired, bending down and placing his hands on his knees. He looked up at Ron, his chest heaving.

"I hope nothing bad ever happens with me, Ron. If it does, I'll know I can't count on you to stand by me," he said, panting.

"Harry, you'd never willingly go to Voldemort," Ron said, wiping at his bloody nose with his sleeve.

Harry looked at him.

"You don't know what I'd do, Ron," he said in a low voice, "but I will never abandon Hermione. Ever. I don't care what it looks like she's done. And I'll tell you another thing…"

Harry stood up and looked Ron dead in his eyes.

"No one is going to kill Hermione. If they try, they're going to have to kill me too," he said. Then he turned and left the room.

Ron sat heavily on the bed, brushing his hair down with his hand and looking after Harry.

Did he just declare war on the Order?

* * *

Harry stormed through the common room. His housemates watched him pass without saying anything to him. Hermione was his best friend. No one wanted to get him upset. Harry pushed his way out of the common room entrance with such force the Fat Lady gave a whoop. He started walking, not knowing where he was going. He just needed to get away from Ron, from everyone.

"Hey Potter!" a familiar voice called. Harry spun to see Draco Malfoy approaching him, sans goons. Harry stopped.

Draco walked up to him and looked him over with an appraising eye. Harry's robes were half unbuttoned, the buttons gone, and underneath his shirt was pulled out of his pants, a few buttons also missing. Harry also had a bruise on his cheek and his hair looked messier than normal.

"Fighting for Granger's honor, Potter? A little late for that," Draco snickered.

Harry grabbed him by his robes, his green eyes blazing behind his glasses.

"Easy Potter, easy," Draco said, "You don't want to kill the messenger. I talked to my father."

Harry released him roughly.

"So what did he say," Harry said.

"Meet him by the main gates at six tomorrow evening. He wants to talk to you, make sure you're not trying to set him up," Draco said, his blue eyes hard, "don't fuck with my father, Potter. If you get him in trouble, I swear I'll kill you."

Harry met Draco's eyes.

"Don't worry about that. I'm not interested in getting your father caught. I just want to find Hermione," he said evenly.

"Well, I'll be trailing you anyway," Draco said, "just to make sure."

"Fine," Harry said.

"If I were you, Potter, I'd go find Weasley's sister and get myself a goodbye shag. This is probably your last night on earth," Draco drawled, walking away.

Harry looked after him, wondering how he knew about him and Ginny. Then it clicked…Ginny was a bit loose sexually, but not so much that Ron heard about it. He'd go berserk.

Harry sighed and decided to head for the owlery. It was quiet up there.

He could clear his head and think about tomorrow.

* * *

Hermione had a quiet lunch in her room. As she ate her mind kept wandering back to the sexy promise the Professor had given her about delivering tonight. A delicious shiver ran through her. His kiss had surprised her. Although he had kissed her because she challenged him, and had been angry, the kiss had been tender, sweeter than she would have ever imagined him capable of. His mouth was soft and warm, belying the coldness he radiated. She wondered what an attentive Professor Snape would be like. Would he really take time with her or do the bare minimum to get to what he really wanted? After that kiss, she didn't think she would be able to tell that he was acting. Hermione shifted her position on the bed. She was getting herself all worked up thinking about the Professor. She decided to focus on her powers instead.

She stood up and looked around her room. Her eyes fell on the wardrobe and she willed it to move. At first nothing happened. Then suddenly Hermione felt power flow through her and the wardrobe slid forward so quickly she was forced to jump on to the bed to avoid being squished.

"Wow. I have to learn to regulate this," she thought as she climbed off the bed. She moved the wardrobe back in place. So she could move objects. She willed the brush on her dresser to float. The stream flowed easier, and the brush rose. She directed it all around the room by thinking where she would like it to go, then made it tumble over and over. She floated it back to the dresser. She wondered if she could move something heavier. Hermione looked at the dresser and once again she felt the stream of magic flow through her. The heavy dresser lifted several inches off the floor easily. She set it back down. She walked into the study and began practicing lifting furniture and found she could levitate several objects at once. The sofa, coffee table and armchairs floated effortlessly above the floor. The best part about her power was there was absolutely no strain to her system. Using her Primordial gift was completely different than casting a spell, which required effort. She would be able to use the magic indefinitely if necessary. Hermione began to spin the furniture in place, enjoying herself immensely.

* * *

In his throne room, Voldemort felt the power Hermione was emanating flow through him. It was strong, raw power.

"She is growing more powerful," he thought, tapping his wand on the gilded edge of his throne. This was good. He knew that Albus and the Order would soon be upon him, and since acquiring Hermione, he had decided to stand and fight. It was time for the Final Battle. Albus had made a grievous miscalculation attempting to kill Miss Granger's parents. Now it forced him to move before he was ready, and he had no idea how strong the witch was. This put him at an extreme disadvantage. The Headmaster would have to approach the Dark Lord's forces with caution and restraint instead of a full head-on assault. The Primordial would be able to wipe them all out at once if they moved en mass.

Voldemort's ranks were over six thousand strong, but with the Primordial, he might not have to use them, though he would have them prepared for battle. Every deatheater was proficient with the Unforgivables. It had been required of them to be able to cast the deadly spells. The punishment for a bad showing was very painful and the deatheaters worked hard at learning the spells to avoid being tortured. In a matter of two months, he had personally witnessed each and every one of his servants cast all three curses with skill. He was quite satisfied with them. He still had the pensieve of Albus attempting to murder the Grangers. He was saving it to show Hermione at the last possible moment, to increase her ire against Dumbledore and the Order. He wanted Albus' betrayal fresh in her mind.

Concerning the Primordial herself, Voldemort wondered if the charmed clothing was doing its job on her libido. He wanted to speed up her descent into the carnal. It irked him that Snape was bedding the most powerful witch on earth. The deatheater didn't deserve such an honor. He was an animal. Completely unworthy. Voldemort was a sexual deviant but he believe in giving a woman as much or more pleasure than she could stand before he took his own brutal pleasure. He knew Snape's MO when it came to women. Penetrate them as hard as he could, in as many orifices as he could. He cared nothing about the finer points of taking a woman to the height of pleasure and making them beg for the next level of bliss. The Primordial only knew the brutal side of sexual pleasure with the Potions Master. Voldemort knew could show her so much more. There were spells and incantations that would lift her beyond the sensual, preparing her body for the deep, dark pleasures of an even darker Lord. He longed to show her the depths of his desires.

Hopefully, the combination of the aura of carnality suffusing his stronghold and her charmed clothing would make her bored with Severus' brutal and unimaginative attentions and lead her to seek out other sexual experiences, experiences he would be more than happy to give her. Voldemort had his pick of both females and males among his ranks, and he occasionally indulged himself. Mostly though, he derived pleasure watching his deatheaters brutalize, rape and kill in his name But he would enjoy taking the Primordial, and it was his main intent outside of securing her promise to help him defeat the forces of Light.

At that moment, Severus appeared and walked across the throne room toward the Primordial's room. He paused and bowed to Voldemort as he passed. The Dark Lord's red eyes followed him. Just before the Potions Master reached Hermione's door, Voldemort called him.

"Severus, come here," the Dark Lord said.

Snape turned and returned, stopped before the throne and bowed to the Dark Lord.

"How goes it with the Primordial?" he asked him.

"She is happy, my Lord," Severus replied.

"And you, are you happy serving her? Or are you still feeling resentful?" Voldemort inquired, his red eyes searching the Potions Master's face for signs of discontent.

Snape looked at the Dark Lord. He could see envy clearly on his scaly face.

"We have come to an understanding my Lord. All is well between us," Snape replied

This displeased the Dark Lord, but he did not react.

"Let me see, Severus," he said, rising from his throne and descending.

The Potions Master raised his occulmency shield, blocking his and Hermione's conversation about the Dark Lord and her plan to seek out other deatheaters. He left only the kiss and his promise to fulfill her needs. The Dark Lord pressed his scaly fingers to Snape's temple.

"Legilimens!" he lisped.

Voldemort watched the tender kiss Snape gave the Primordial, and her reaction to it, and to Snape's promise of fulfillment. It seemed the Potions Master was capable of providing a woman pleasure after all, when so inclined. The Primordial was as taken with him as ever. Damn him.

Voldemort released Snape's mind and walked back up the stairs to his throne. He sat down and studied the Potions Master.

"I see you are changing your methods toward the Primordial, Severus. I thought you showed women no quarter when you took them. Are you developing feelings for the Primordial to treat her to so gentle a kiss?" Voldemort asked him, his eyes glittering.

"No, my Lord. She expressed the desire to experience more than my usual brutal possession of her. She wishes to be kissed and caressed before and during the act. I am simply following your command concerning her. I am developing no feelings for her, my Lord. I am simply servicing her needs," Snape replied, "I gave her that kiss to show her I could be gentle. She had some doubts my Lord."

"I don't wonder. She confided in me at breakfast this morning that your taking of her virginity was quite brutal and thorough," Voldemort said, "so thorough that you triggered her Primordial powers and forced them to manifest years before the normal awakening."

"She desired me greatly, my Lord. I did not plan to ever touch her again, so I took my fill of her and educated her thoroughly," Snape replied.

"And she willingly accepted this treatment from you?" Voldemort asked the Potions Master.

"Mostly, my Lord. She had to be 'persuaded' on occasion, but she submitted to me, my Lord"

The Dark Lord looked at his servant.

"How did you persuade her, Severus?" he asked.

"A bit of physical violence, my Lord and threats. My usual reaction to being disobeyed when seeking my pleasure of a woman. As I told you, my Lord, she has a dark need within her. She has had too many responsibilities forced upon her. The result is she has masochistic tendencies. Which suit me, my Lord," Snape responded.

The Dark Lord rested his chin on his hand.

"So tonight, you are going to suspend your usual brutality with the Primordial?" he asked.

"No my Lord. But I will provide for her other needs before I take her with my usual…gusto. She will be appreciative, I am sure," Snape answered him smoothly.

Severus sounded sure of himself concerning the satisfaction of the Primordial. Again, Voldemort felt a stab of jealousy at the Potions Master's intimacy with the young witch.

"Very well, Severus. You may go," the Dark Lord dismissed him.

Snape bowed. "Thank you my Lord," he said. Walking away quickly, relieved he had not been Crucio'd because of the Dark Lord's envy.

Voldemort watched him go, his red eyes slitted with displeasure.

* * *

When Snape walked into Hermione's room, he drew up short, his eyes round as he saw Hermione, standing in the center of the living room, smiling like a child as furniture spun like tops around her. He watched as the heavy items bobbed low then drifted high, all moving in a circle around her while spinning. It looked a bit like a merry-go-round. He studied her. He could see no sign of effort or strain. The magic was doing all the work.

Hermione noticed him, and her smile broadened. The furniture stopped spinning, and each piece neatly returned to its original resting place. Severus was impressed, though he maintained his cool composure. His black eyes fell on the grinning witch.

"Your powers are growing stronger," he said, remarking on the obvious.

"Yes, they are. I can consciously control them," she said excitedly, bouncing over to him. He looked down into her happy, flushed face. She reminded him of the student she used to be, exclaiming over a perfectly brewed potion, or new spell she'd learned. Hermione's face grew serious.

"What's wrong?" she asked him. He had an odd expression on his face.

"Nothing," he answered her, "I was wondering if I might utilize your library for a while. My room is sadly lacking in reading materials."

His room? Hermione hadn't realized the Professor had his own room here. But then, he must, since he was in hiding too.

"I didn't know you had a room here, Professor. You don't have a library?" she asked him.

"No, Miss Granger. I do not," he said shortly, a bit of bitterness in his voice.

Hermione caught the note of discontent in his voice.

"You're welcome to use the library any time you like, Professor. Mi casa es su casa."

"Thank you, Miss Granger," he said, turning to go into the study.

"Um, Professor?" Hermione said. Snape turned and fixed her with his black eyes.

"Yes, Miss Granger?"

Hermione hesitated for a moment. Snape looked at her with impatience.

"Would you like to have dinner with me tonight. I thought it would be nice to eat together before we…before we…

Snape raised an eyebrow at her.

"Before we do the do, Miss Granger?" he asked helpfully.

She blushed and nodded. The Professor smirked. So she wanted to make it a romantic evening. Well, he could play the part.

"Yes, Miss Granger. I will dine with you if that is your wish," he replied.

She smiled.

"What would you like to eat?" she asked him.

In response, the Professor's black eyes swept over her slowly.

"What 'food' would you like to eat, Professor?" Hermione amended, again blushing furiously. She felt a little heated at the hungry way his eyes raked her body.

"Anything will be fine as long as it isn't overcooked," he replied, "and some wine as well."

"All right," Hermione replied.

The Professor walked into the library.

Hermione did a little dance and summoned the house elves to plan their meal.

* * *

Snape sat across the table from Hermione, looking down at the medium rare steak on his plate. Hermione was watching the Potions Master anxiously. The Potions Master picked up his knife and fork, and cut through the meat easily. He lifted a piece to his mouth, inserted it and chewed thoughtfully. He nodded.

"Very good," he said to Hermione, who almost slumped with relief. She had been worried he wouldn't like the steak and vegetables she had ordered for dinner. She thought it best to stick with the basics. She dug into her own meal, and the two ate in silence, Hermione sneaking little peeks at the Potions Master as she ate. She took one more swift peek to find him looking directly at her, a little frown on his face.

"Miss Granger, why do you keep peeping at me? It is very annoying. If you want to look at me, then just do it," he said, pouring himself a generous glass of wine.

Hermione blushed, then she got a little mad.

"I just wanted to see if you were enjoying your food, and I didn't want to seem like I was staring," she retorted as he drank his wine,

He sat the glass down.

"You simply could have asked me," he replied, "I have no problem saying what I like and don't like, Miss Granger, as you should know from the years you've spent as my student."

"Well, actually Professor, you never liked anything as far as I could tell," she said, taking a bite of her steak, "except taking house points, assigning detentions and berating your students, that is."

The Professor looked at her evenly.

"See, you were paying attention Miss Granger. Those indeed were a few of my favorite things," he said, smirking at the memory. Then his black eyes took on a bit of heat.

"You should have other memories of what I like," he said in a low, meaningful voice, "Outside the classroom. I was quite vocal about it, as I remember."

Hermione felt a pulse of heat in her lower belly. He was referring to their first night together. As he took her, he did tell her how good she felt to him, though the language he used was hardly tender. He had quite a dirty mouth and Hermione had reacted to his words wantonly, wanting to hear more as he pounded into her.

Snape watched the witch's eyes go half-lidded as she remembered and smirked to himself as he began his dessert, a delicious slice of chocolate cake with frosting. He had a thing for chocolate.

Hermione watched the Professor eat the cake with obvious enjoyment. She couldn't eat another bite. She was too full of anticipation. The Professor quickly polished off his cake. She slid hers across the table.

"Would you like my dessert, Professor? I-I can't eat it," she said, with a small nervous smile.

He looked at her, then the cake. Then he pulled it over to him.

"Thank you Miss Granger. I have a weakness for chocolate," he said.

"I have a weakness for you," Hermione thought as she watched him tuck into the cake.

The Professor made short work of the cake, then poured himself another glass of wine, and looked at Hermione, who was sitting a little stiffly now that dinner was over.

"You look rather nervous, Miss Granger," the Professor purred. He liked her nervousness. It was having an arousing effect on him. She could hardly look at him.

"I'm all right, Professor," she said, trying to put up a confident front. It was so much easier to deal with him when she knew what to expect. Tonight was going to be different and she had no idea just how different it would be.

"If you're not all right Miss Granger, I assure you, you will be," he said silkily.

"I think you need to loosen up, Miss Granger," he said, pouring her a glass of wine.

"I'm not old enough to drink, Professor," she protested, watching the glass fill up.

"Nonsense," he said, "you're no longer a child. Plus, it will help you relax. I can see you are very nervous."

The Professor slid the wine over to the witch, who sipped it and smacked her lips.

"It's delicious," she said, draining the glass as the Professor watched with raised eyebrows.

"Would you like a bit more?" he asked her.

"Yes. Yes I would," Hermione said. The Professor poured her another glass. Hermione made short work of that as well. Hm. This could be interesting.

"Feeling better?" he asked her after a few moments.

"Yes, I really do. I think I'd like to have a little more. I am certainly feeling more relaxed, Professor."

There was an attractive little flush to her face. Snape knew he should cut her off, but he was Snape after all, and not above taking advantage of an inebriated woman. One more glass should give her a good buzz, but not make her so drunk she wouldn't be responsive.

"One more glass, Miss Granger," he said, pouring her a healthy amount, "then we'll move on to the real dessert…"

"And you'll kiss me, and touch me," she said in a low husky voice, "and make me feel good all over…"

She was looking at him rather hungrily now.

Snape looked at her, surprised. Evidently the wine had loosened her tongue significantly. He wondered what else had been loosened. He passed her the glass of wine.

"That is the last glass, Miss Granger. I believe the wine is going to your head," he observed as Hermione stretched sensuously before lifting the wine and just…draining it.

Her amber eyes fell on the Professor.

"Your kiss today made me feel hot all over, Professor. I never dreamed you could kiss like that. You're so cold all the time. Even when you take me, you're cold. Distant. It's like you are as close to me as you can get, but still far away from me," Hermione said. She had her elbows propped on the table, and her chin rested in her hands as she looked at him, as if studying him.

"I guess that's because you really don't care about me," she said.

The Potions Master listened to her, but didn't reply. He was interested in knowing what she really thought about him, about what he did to her. It seemed that he might find out.

"But that's all right. I care about you," she said, "and when you're inside of me, I feel close to you even though you take pleasure in hurting me. But I'm just as bad. I probably wouldn't want you if you didn't hurt me that way, Professor. Maybe you help get all the hurt out of me, you ever think about that?" she asked him.

"No," he answered quietly.

"Yeah. I have a lot of hurt inside me that no one knows about. Sometimes I felt I would just explode if I couldn't get let it out. But a strong leader doesn't show they can be hurt or they are perceived as weak. They wanted me to be strong at Hogwarts, to fulfill my duties and responsibilities with strength, do my job with dispatch no matter what anyone thought of me. I just swallowed the painful things they said down," Hermione said, her eyes unfocused now as she thought about all the hurtful comments she had taken and filed away.

"Maybe I'm attracted to you because I know you know what hurt is, Professor. What pain is. Maybe that makes it easier to take pain from you, and why I find release with you," she said softly, her eyes focusing on him again.

Her amber eyes moved slowly around the room.

"This is the greatest pain of all, Professor," she whispered, "being driven from a world I loved, by those I loved, and targeted for death by them. It hurts so much, Professor," she said, beginning to cry.

Oh Merlin's balls! He hadn't known the wine would turn on the waterworks. It was time to get the witch in the bed. Snape rose from the table and walked around it, pulling Hermione up from her chair. The witch looked up at the Potions Master with tear-filled eyes. He wasn't moved by them. There was no pity. Everyone had to live with pain. She needed to be stronger than this. Tears would get them both killed.

He placed his hands on either side of Hermione's face to get her full attention. He looked down at the distraught witch

"Miss Granger, now is not the time for self-pity or tears, but for strength," he said quietly, "I will help you forget your pain."

Snape backed Hermione up against the living room wall and pressed his body against hers, lowering his head and kissing her, moving his lips against her mouth softly, capturing her lips between his. He moved against her gently, his hands caressing her sides lightly, trying to pull her out of her hole of self-pity. She sighed, and responded, kissing him back, opening her mouth and inviting him in as she rubbed her body against his.

Snape slipped his tongue into her hot, little mouth, grinding his erection against her as he tasted her. She was sweet. The heat of her mouth made him think of the waiting heat between her thighs, and he let out a low groan, and claimed her mouth more fully, his tongue delving so deeply it was almost in her throat.

Snape was ready to possess the Primordial right now, and she would probably let him. The wine and her emotional state made her vulnerable and needy. But she wasn't drunk. She'd know that he didn't keep his word. She might still seek out another. He had promised her to take time. He would keep his promise.

The Professor slid his lips from her mouth to her throat, sucking it softly, letting his teeth graze her flesh lightly. Hermione groaned with pleasure, tilting her head to give him more access. He slid his hands up her sides, and cupped both her full breasts, fondling them through her robes, flicking his thumbs over her hardened nipples, the peaks so tight with desire he could feel them through the fabric. Hermione responded wantonly, whispering "Oh, Professor" over and over, pressing her body tight against him, rubbing hard against his erection.

The Professor returned to her mouth, with more ardor now his hands still on her breasts, humping against her almost uncontrollably. Suddenly he pulled back from her, his eyes hard with lust. She moved forward for more contact and he held her back with one hand.

"I promise you time, Miss Granger," he panted at the writhing witch, "but you are tempting me almost beyond my endurance. Divesto!"

He removed Hermione's clothing wandlessly. The witch was so aroused, she didn't notice. Snape's eyes swept over her hungrily.

"Divesto!"

Now he was naked also. He pressed against her again, trapping his swollen member between their straining bodies. He fell to her throat again, running his lips, tongue and teeth down her heated skin, over her collar bone, slipping his hands behind her, grasping her by her ass and pulling her against him urgently. He bent his knees so he could access her breasts and as he enveloped a nipple, he felt her hands come up and wrap gently in his hair. He didn't protest as he laved each of her full firm breasts in turn, sucking and nibbling, rolling her flesh between his teeth, relishing her gasps of pleasure as his other hand slipped down to her belly, rubbing it softly. She was arching off the wall to him now, and he stood up again, once more sliding his body against hers, groaning with need, his erection pulsing against her belly. He didn't dare touch her pussy. He would be unable to resist thrusting into her if he did so. The scent of her arousal alone was driving him mad.

Hermione slowly and tentatively begin to caress his back, her fingertips running over his scars gently, and he shuddered beneath her touch as they dropped to his lower back, then below, exploring the flexing muscles of his buttocks This was the first time the witch had explored his body, and he found the touch of her small, inquisitive hands pleasurable. He locked his mouth to hers again, brutally this time, raping her mouth. Hermione slid her hand from around his back to caress the tight rippled ridges of his abdomen beneath her palm, then grasped his member and slid the silken skin up and down its length with her fist. The Professor hissed and bucked against her hard, before pulling back to watch her small hand work itself over him. He wanted more than her hand.

"Miss Granger," he said hoarsely and plaintively, his black eyes meeting hers hotly before looking down at her hand then back at her face.

"Take me to the bedroom, Professor," she gasped, her amber eyes glowing, "I'll do it there."

Snape swallowed as Hermione released him. He took her hand and started to lead her to the bedroom, but she was walking too slowly, so he swept her up into his arms and strode with her into her room, placing her not too gently into her four-poster and climbing in after her, his body taunt, and nostrils flared. He started to straddle her, but she sat up and pushed him back. He stopped, breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling as he looked at her.

"Lie down, Professor," Hermione said softly.

He wanted to force her back down to the bed, but he caught himself and fell to his back, his brow furrowed. Hermione crawled over him and straddled him. She lowered her head and kissed him. The Professor resisted for a moment, then let her have her way, opening his mouth to receive her. She was on all fours, and his body longed for contact. His hands came up and grasped her waist, trying to pull her down as her tongue delved in his mouth. She resisted him, and trying to keep his word, he contented himself with running his hands over her back and buttocks, throbbing for something, anything at this point.

Hermione ran her lips over the Professor's jaw, and over his throat, kissing him gently. He closed his eyes, and let the feeling of her mouth moving over his skin sink in. This was something he hadn't experienced with a woman in years. He sighed as she fell to his collarbone and slid over his chest, nipping at him and looking up to see if he took any pleasure in it. His black eyes met hers hotly, and she smiled at him continuing. She took his nipple into her mouth and sucked it gently, then flicked it with her tongue as he had done to her. The Professor hissed, encouraged, Hermione began to lave both nipples, making Snape arch upward just as she had. He was gasping as she climbed lower, moving downward, her mouth sliding softly over his belly.

"Yes, Miss Granger," he panted as she approached his throbbing tool.

Hermione lifted his engorged member, her small hands wrapped around the base as she examined the tool that caused her so much pleasure and pain. Snape lifted his head and watched her as she pressed her lips to the head and kissed it softly. She planted kisses up and down the length of it, then her limber tongue traced the map of veins beneath the sensitive skin of his shaft before she engulfed the swollen purple head between her lips and sucked him hard. He groaned and automatically placed his hands on her head and began to guide her down on him, growling with pleasure. Hermione remembered what he liked and he began to lose control, finally pushing the witch to her back and straddling her shoulders in his favorite position, and driving himself into her mouth frantically, his mouth slack with pleasure. Hermione brought her small hand and cupped them against him, squeezing gently.

That was all he needed, that simple warm touch to send him over the edge. With a cry he ejaculated, shuddering and staring down at her biting his lip as she drank him in. Hermione was phenomenal. He pressed his hand to her head as he pulsed, holding her steady for several moment, then groaned as he slowly pulled out of her mouth, her amber eyes soft as they looked up at him, her lips glistening. Snape slid down on the bed and laid beside her, his chest still rising and falling as he looked at her.

He could tell she wanted to be kissed, so he kissed her, making it slow and sensual. She turned and pressed her body against him, and his hand slid down her body, pausing to squeeze her breast before sliding over her belly and touching the wetness between her legs. She groaned and humped against his hand, her kiss becoming more frantic. He began to massage her, and she cried out into his mouth as she writhed. He pulled back.

"You want to come, Miss Granger?" he whispered, flicking her nub and watching her face contort with need and pleasure.

"Yes, Professor," she groaned.

He locked his mouth to hers again and slipped two fingers inside her. He began to gently thrust them into her, twisting and angling them slightly while mashing her button with his thumb. She arched against his hand, thrusting her hips rhythmically, trying to help him bring her to the point.

"Come, Miss Granger. Let it go," he said against her mouth, swirling his tongue around hers.

Already close, Hermione buckled wildly, then stiffened as she clamped around his thrusting digits. She let out a low, long whimper as she came, her juices flowing around his fingers and coating his hand.

"Yes," Snape encouraged, removing his fingers and tasting them before rolling on top of her, sliding downward until his head was between her thighs, lapping up her release, causing her to buck and moan as his tongue caressed and thrust inside her, and his lips and teeth working their magic.

"Damn, Professor," she gasped, her hands again wrapped in his hair. He didn't mind it this time as he pleasured her until she erupted in another smaller climax, and she cursed quietly as bliss washed over her, the obscenity causing a throb of new life in the Professor's spent organ. He began to swell. He looked up at Hermione, who was in a half-raised position, her shoulders and head against the headboard. She was looking down at him with a sated look in her amber eyes.

"That was amazing," she breathed, her heart still pounding.

The Professor rose and rolled to the side a bit, catching Hermione by her waist and pulling her down flush to the bed. He kissed his way up her body to her lips, which he captured gently, before thrusting his tongue in her mouth, sharing the taste of her. He then rolled back on top of her, looking down, his black eyes blazing. He pushed a lock of her hair away from her face so he could see it clearly.

"Have I pleased you, Miss Granger?" he asked her, his voice low.

"Yes, Professor, you've been wonderful so far," she said.

He searched her face.

"So far?" he echoed, frowning a bit.

She looked at him as he shifted a bit, his hard cock pressing against her leg.

He looked down at her, comprehension dawning on him.

"Oh, you think I will forget your needs when I take you," he said, running a pale finger down her throat and making her shudder. "I won't, Miss Granger. I assure you. I don't want you seeking out anyone but me," he said, kissing her.

Yes, he would meet her needs all right, but he hadn't forgotten her callous use and dismissal of him this morning. He smiled against her lips.

It was time to ante up, Miss Granger.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading 


	12. Chapter 12

**Inside the Blackest Heart Part 12**

Snape released Hermione's lips and looked down at her, a slight hardness in his black eyes. It was true that she had been under the influence of the charmed gown when she made him service her then left him to find relief the best way he could, but still she did it. She didn't try to fight the urge to use and humiliate him. Of course, such an act couldn't go unpunished.

"How limber are you, Miss Granger?" he inquired, rising to kneel between her thighs, and looking down at her core. He bent her legs and pushed her knees against her chest. She folded up quite nicely

"Grip your legs, Miss Granger, he said thickly as he positioned himself at her entrance," hold yourself open for me." Hermione did as he asked. He looked down at her.

"This is for this morning, Miss Granger," he growled. Hermione's eyes widened. She had forgotten this morning.

"Wait, Professor…oh gods!" she cried as he slammed into her brutally, and began ramming his full length in and out of her with long, deep strokes, bouncing her body off the mattress. Her hands flew from her legs and to his back, gripping at him desperately as he lifted his hips high and plunged inside her over and over, his black eyes full of lust, a thin smile of vengeful pleasure quirking his mouth, his hair swinging back and forth around his face as he rode her.

"Never…leave….me….hanging….Miss….Granger," he purred softly, punctuating each silken word with a deep, hard thrust

Hermione was shrieking as the Potions Master stroked her violently, grunting with every thrust, his muscles rippling under her hands as she clutched at him, arching under him every time he hit bottom, spasms of pain and pleasure radiating outward from her center as she absorbed the shock of his pounding possession. His organ was like iron sheathed in silk, sliding through her wetness, hard, long, demanding every inch of her and more.

"Professor!" she screamed as he punctured her so deeply she started shuddering uncontrollably, quaking around him and digging her nails into his back reflexively. The Professor hissed at the pain as it sliced through him and continued hammering her, driving her toward the brink, feeling her insides beginning to clutch at him. He was nowhere near ready to release, and he drove into her seeking to batter down the floodgates and give her body release as he took his pleasure of her. He remembered what she said about her pain…how he released it for her. He understood what she meant and what she felt, and he tried his best to take her away from it, for both their sakes.

"It's time to let go, Miss Granger," he gasped, plunging into her deeply, slowing his stroke and rotating his pelvis, gyrating himself deep inside her, trying to trigger her climax. He began to thrust into her again, this time shifting his body and thrusting at different angles, listening for the catch in her voice that told him when he hit her sweet spot. Suddenly she buckled and he heard the note, and began stroking with purpose into her, keeping the angle true, Hermione tightening around him hitting that note, the pressure building inside her until she burst apart, arching hard against him, murmuring unintelligible words to him, her amber eyes dilated and staring up at him in wonder, bathing him with the liquid fire streaming through her, and Snape eased up, his black eyes glinting as they took in her release. He dropped heavily on her, and locked his mouth to hers, tasting her with his tongue as her climax pulsed over him, then sliding to her throat, kissing and licking her heated flesh and growling with pleasure as she rode the crest and took him with her. Slowly, her pulsing eased, her body relaxing around his hardness, her shudders lessening beneath him.

Snape rested his face against the curve of Hermione's throat, pressing his lips to it, still buried inside her. He could feel her heart pounding against his chest. He would give her a few minutes to recover before continuing. He had the whole night.

* * *

Hermione lay beneath the Professor's body, panting and sated, relishing his weight, a delicious ache in her belly. He was still inside her, hard and hot, throbbing occasionally. She could feel his lips moving over her throat gently as she eased back to earth. He had been as brutal as ever with her, making it clear he was exacting revenge for her actions this morning. He was not a man to take a simple "I'm sorry" in any case. Still, she had welcomed his violence as she always did, and he showed her some tenderness at the end. Even now, he was caressing her thigh gently, his warm palm sliding over her skin, and his lips were still moving against her throat. His contact felt delicious. Then a thought came to her. 

"Professor, your back," she whispered, "I scratched you…"

"A much more pleasant way of getting scars than I'm used to, Miss Granger," he said against her throat. "I am a lot like you in some respects. In this case, the pain was worth the pleasure."

He thrust into her slightly.

"Mm, so tight," he groaned against her neck, stopping himself before he began pummeling her again. He could feel her lubrication washing over him. Her body was responding to his continued presence inside her.

"You recover quickly, Miss Granger," he said, lifting his head and looking down at her. He kissed her again, sliding out of her slowly and easing off of her body. He started kissing her shoulder, sliding his lips across her skin, sucking gently, before moving down her arm like a randy count in an old muggle movie. Hermione giggled.

"You find something funny about my technique, Miss Granger?" he asked her, sucking on her fingers and kissing her palm, sending little shocks through her. Who would have thought getting her fingers sucked would be a turn on?

"It's…different," she said.

He lifted his brow at her.

"Miss Granger, you are still post-virginal despite my rather thorough attentions. How do you know my technique is different, when I'm the only wizard you've ever shagged?" he asked her, pulling her nipple gently and letting it snap back, eliciting a gasp from the Primordial.

"I don't know. It just doesn't seem like something an ordinary wizard would do," she replied softly looking at him.

Snape smirked.

"Who said I was an ordinary wizard, Miss Granger?" he said, rolling her quickly on to her stomach and straddling her hips, his member resting on the swell of her buttocks and lower back.

"Intermission's over," he growled.

Then he began to caress her neck and shoulders gently, letting his palms smooth over her back then slipping to her sides. Hermione moaned at the feel of his hands on her body. She was heating up again.

He shifted his body downward so he was sitting on her calves. He continued to caress her, running his hands over her lower back and buttocks. He throbbed. Reaching under her, he coaxed her to her knees, pulling her up against him, her thighs together as he straddled her legs. He stroked her vulva lightly, feeling her wetness on her lower lips. She shuddered and pushed back against him. He pushed her head down to the bed and slid into her slowly. She was very tight this way.

"Yesssss," he hissed as he penetrated her. He began to take her slowly, gripping her buttocks and pulling her back over him as he thrust between her thighs, burying himself in her. She moaned in pleasure.

"You like this, Miss Granger?" he asked, sliding his hands up her back, down her sides and over her breasts as he pumped into her a bit faster.

"Yes, Professor. But harder…please," she moaned.

"You see how wanton you are, Miss Granger? I try to be gentle and yet, you beg me not to be. Why is that, Miss Granger?" he asked her, thrusting into her a little harder, but not giving her what he knew she wanted.

"It's not enough…" she gasped as he increased his depth, hitting bottom lightly.

"Not enough what, Miss Granger?" he asked. He wanted to hear her say it.

"Not enough wand, Professor," she gasped as he gave her a deep, satisfying stroke, before returning to his lighter thrust. Hermione groaned and tried to shove herself back on him hard, but he restrained her.

"Are you trying to force yourself on me, Miss Granger?" he chuckled, his pelvis bumping against her buttocks lightly.

"Damn it Professor! Shag me! Hard!" Hermione hissed, frustrated.

Snape's dark eyes went darker and a delicious shudder shot through him. She had never asked him for it before. It turned him on. He pulsed inside her, swelling larger.

"As you wish, Primordial," he growled.

The Professor pulled almost completely out of her, raised her up from the mattress and gripped her shoulders firmly. He slammed into her, pulling her back against him as he did so, burying himself in her body to the hilt, throwing his head back in pleasure.

"Yes!" Hermione shrieked.

The Professor's head snapped back forward, and he began to pull Hermione over him roughly, thrusting into her body as if he had never experienced anything so good before. He hunched over her, kissing the back of her neck as he rode her, and whispering obscenities in her ear.

"Is this enough wand for you, Primordial?" he hissed, his pelvis loudly slapping against her buttocks. Both their bodies were slick with sweat, perspiration flying from Snape's body with every stroke. His hands kept slipping from her shoulders and he pulled her up so her back was against his chest and then he leaned back on his hands and Hermione found herself in the position of sitting on top of him, and she drove herself down on his member just as brutally as the Professor drove into her. He gasped at the force of the witch's ardor.

"Damn Miss Granger," he grunted as she bounced on him, crying out, perspiration rolling down her back and dripping on to his loins. He leaned forward, pulling her hair to one side and locking his mouth to the side of her neck as he slipped his hands under her arms and grasped her breasts, fondling her and tweaking her nipples as he thrust into her faster and harder while she ground herself down on him, feeling the bubble of bliss swelling inside her.

"Professor! Please!" she gasped.

Snape pulled out of her and quickly pushed her down on the bed, turned her over and threw her legs over his shoulders, burying himself in her wildly, angling his thrusts and plowing through her cervix, feeling it shift under his blows as Hermione thrashed beneath him, her amber eyes glazed with the need for release. He bounced into her, making her body rebound into him forcefully. He was growling now, a low steady purr in the back of his throat as he felt the inevitable tightening that heralded his coming release. She was so wet, hot and tight around him that he was on the edge. Hermione was sobbing now, but still thrusting back as best she could, trying to bust that aching bubble inside her.

"Come Hermione!" he snarled at her, ramming himself into the witch with all his might.

Then it happened. A stream of power washed through Hermione and into Snape as she came shrieking, her body growing hot as fire as she gripped him internally, her release washing over him. Snape shuddered as the force of magic flowed through him, and he came howling, feeling his entire being flow into the witch beneath him, losing his sense of self, his identity, himself becoming the pulsing stream of release inside her, his dark soul blending with her greater light, knowing and wanting nothing other than the bliss of becoming one whole being with the Primordial, imbued with a sense of perfect, perfect peace.

They hung there, in that eternal moment, mouths and souls locked together, then exploding outward, a nova of delight, spinning, revolving, the pieces of themselves shattering, streaking downward in a meteoric descent, falling back into their bodies, gasping and shuddering, both undone by such an amazing experience.

Snape had both his arms wrapped around Hermione, holding her tightly against him when he came to himself. He looked down at the witch with wonder. Her eyes were closed and she was breathing deeply and evenly, though her heart was pounding like thunder against his chest. He could still feel residual power radiating from her body.

"Miss Granger. Miss Granger," he said softly.

She opened her amber eyes and looked at him, smiling softly.

"What just happened?" he asked her, staring at her with a mixture of wonder and fear. He had never experienced anything like that before.

"I don't know, Professor. I think you got a jolt of my power when I climaxed, and it drew you into me somehow. I felt you close to me for the first time," she said.

The Professor grew silent. He rolled off her.

"I have to go," he said.

"No, stay with me," Hermione said, struggling to sit up as he exited the bed.

Snape looked at her, his black eyes seeming fathomless.

"No, Miss Granger. I have to leave. Return to my own rooms," he said, scourgifying himself.

"But why? You're welcome to stay here. Your room is uncomfortable. You can barely fit in your bed. I saw it in your mind earlier. You can share my rooms," she said, pleading with him.

"No," he said firmly, dressing himself magically, "I can't stay here with you, Miss Granger. This night is over. I have satisfied you, have I not?"

"Yes," Hermione said in a small voice.

"Then I have done what I came here to do. I must leave now. Good night, Miss Granger," the Potions Master said, walking out of the bedroom with a billow of his black robes.

Hermione fell back in the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

She knew what he was. Cold, heartless, unfeeling. He was a murderer. A rapist. A deatheater. He didn't have a soul. He didn't have any place for her.

Hermione turned over, setting her jaw. She wouldn't cry.

She refused to cry.

* * *

Snape walked swiftly into the throne room, making a beeline for his small room. He was out of sorts about what occurred between him and Miss Granger. Or should he refer to her strictly as the Primordial from now on. His climax with the witch had been beyond any pleasure he had ever experienced. He had felt himself connect with her mind, soul and body. He had felt whole and at peace, two things he was not. Snape was a fragmented, troubled wizard and had been so for many years. He was determined he would continue to be so. The Primordial's power was seductive. He could be swept into her influence if he wasn't careful. It would be easy to become addicted to Miss Granger to the exclusion of all else. 

As Snape walked across the throne room deep in thought, Voldemort's red eyes shifted toward him. Snape had raw power radiating off of him. It shot through the Dark Lord's body, causing him to shudder with delight.

"Severus!" He called, "Come here."

The Potions Master turned toward the throne, crossed the room and bowed low before his Lord.

"Yes, my Lord. How may I serve you?" Snape asked him.

The Dark Lord leaned toward him hungrily.

"I sense power radiating from you. What is the source of it? It is very powerful. Is it from the Primordial?" the Dark Lord lisped.

"I imagine it is my Lord. I am just leaving her rooms. I fulfilled her desires for her," Snape replied.

"What happened that you carry residual power?" the Dark Lord asked, his red eyes sweeping over his servant suspiciously.

"When we climaxed together, it seemed her power manifested, affecting us both, my Lord," Snape said.

"What did you experience?" the Dark Lord demanded. He wanted to know what it was like to be in the presence of such power.

"I-I cannot explain it, my Lord. It is beyond words," Snape said truthfully. He was not about to tell the Dark Lord he feared becoming attached to the Primordial because of the way she made him feel.

The Dark Lord frowned, then stood up and walked down to Snape. He stood inches from him, a displeased look on his face.

"Then let me see for myself," he lisped. He felt Severus was purposely hiding his experience from him, for whatever reason.

"Yes, my Lord," Snape said, bowing his head.

Voldemort placed two scaly fingers against Snape's temple to strengthen the connection.

"Legilimens!" the Dark Lord cried.

He saw Severus and the Primordial engaged very passionately in rather brutal sex, the Potions Master driving into the witch roughly. He told the witch to come using her given name then everything went blank. The Dark Lord drew back, enraged.

"Are you blocking the experience, Severus?" he demanded.

"No, my Lord. I would never do such a thing," the Potions Master replied, inwardly cringing at the Dark Lord's rage. This wasn't good.

"Well, why can't I see the experience? The release of her power?" he snarled at Snape.

"I don't know my Lord. Perhaps because it was not a completely physical experience," Snape said.

The Dark Lord scowled at the Potions Master blackly.

"I believe you are hiding it, Severus. Well, you will release the memory to me…Crucio!" the Dark Lord cried.

Snape seized up with pain immediately, his limbs locked to his body as pain ripped through him. It felt as if his blood were boiling in his veins. He shuddered helplessly as the curse ripped at him.

In her bed, Hermione received a vision of Snape in pain. She saw the Dark Lord applying the Cruciatus curse to the Potions Master. She jumped out of bed, her body immediately scourgified and a gown and house robe appearing on her body as she ran for the throne room.

She flung open the door and stopped as she saw Voldemort holding his wand on the Professor, whose eyes were rolled up to the pure whites with pain. She ran toward them.

"Stop! Why are you hurting him? Leave him be!" she yelled at the Dark Lord.

Suddenly, the curse was unable to reach the Potions Master, dissipating inches from his body as the wizard fell, convulsing on the floor. Voldemort had been very displeased, and the curse was fueled by his displeasure and so was very strong. The Potions Master was in bad shape, his limbs flopping uncontrollably, as he foamed at the mouth, his eyes still rolled up. He had pissed and shit on himself, unable to control his bodily functions.

The Dark Lord, seeing that his curse no longer could touch the Potions Master stopped the spell, his red eyes sliding toward the young witch running toward his fallen servant.

"Why were you torturing him?" Hermione asked Voldemort as she fell on her knees at the Professor's side and tried to gather the convulsing wizard into her arms.

"Professor. I'm here," she said to the wizard. He couldn't hear her, caught in the aftermath of the terrible spell. Hermione pulled him against her and wrapped her arms around him tightly, willing for the pain to leave him. Immediately his convulsions stopped. She willed him clean, and Snape was restored to cleanliness.

Voldemort was back in his throne, watching the Primordial use her powers to save her lover. She had stopped his spell. HIS spell. Interfered with his punishment of his servant. He didn't need a reason to torture. He enjoyed it. But in Snape's case he had some knowledge he wanted. Gods, the witch was powerful.

Hermione helped Snape to his feet, supporting him with her shoulder fitted under his arm.

"Why were you punishing him, my Lord? Did he do something?" Hermione asked.

"I wanted to know why he had residual power on his person, and how he acquired it. When I looked into his mind, the experience was blocked. I wanted to see it, so I applied the curse to break the wall that blocked it. It is my usual method of getting information, Miss Granger. He is used to it," the Dark Lord replied.

"No one gets used to that kind of pain. You probably couldn't see it, my Lord because of the magic. It was raw and powerful, and what happened between us was on an inner level, though triggered by a physical act. It wasn't a conscious experience. I doubt it would register," she said.

"But he must have a memory of it," the Dark Lord said angrily.

"I do, my Lord. I just can't find the words to express it," Snape said weakly.

"It's not fair of you to ask him to explain an experience like that, my Lord. It's like asking someone to explain the gods. I can tell you this. My power streamed through me and into him. We shared a powerful climax together. That is all that happened, my Lord," Hermione said, fighting not to frown at the Dark Wizard, who looked very angry.

"Very well, Primordial. But I warn you, I don't have much patience. I realize you were motivated by your emotions, but never come between me and any of my servants again. Severus was my servant, long before he was yours. You are a guest in my domain. I suggest you act like one," the Dark Lord said, seething inwardly. He had killed for having a conversation interrupted. How much worse was this? Actually interfering with a spell? He ground his teeth.

"Come on, Professor…you are coming with me," Hermione said, pulling him toward her rooms. Snape resisted, but he was weak, and tired. He allowed her to take him. But he knew she had just done a very dangerous thing, saving him from the Dark Lord's wrath. Now she was in very real danger from the wizard. He hoped her powers were up to par.

Hermione's door opened, seemingly of its own accord, and the two of them passed through it. It closed behind him.

Voldemort cast a silencing spell around his throne and let out a roar of frustration. How dare she? He had to either secure her word to help him or find a way to destroy her, and soon. She had just taken away the symptoms of the Cruciatus curse just by her will. For years healers had searched for a fast cure for the effects and were unsuccessful. She did it as easily as blinking. What power. How he coveted it.

The Dark Lord calmed a bit and thought about the power the witch had shared with Snape at climax. Snape was a fairly strong wizard, but nowhere near as powerful as himself. Perhaps if he were to experience the flow of her power, he could retain some of it. Use it. It might enhance him. But to do that, he would have to do the Primordial. She was very attached to Snape. Did her powers block the influence of his realm? He hoped not, but she hadn't yet evidenced an interest in exploring her sexuality. He could try to cast a lust spell on her, or the Imperious…but he wasn't sure if her magic would protect her. He would have to think about this. He wanted to experience that power. He would find a way.

* * *

Hermione helped Snape into her bedroom and led him to the bed, helping him to sit down. She pushed him back and lifted his legs, positioning him in the bed. In an instant he was in only his silk boxers, his clothing nowhere in sight. 

"What did you do with my clothes?" he asked weakly, scowling at the witch, who was shrugging out of her robe.

"I put them where you can't find them so you can't dress and leave. Though I'm not sure how good that tactic will work on a wizard who shags in public," she said, climbing over him and lying down. She turned toward him. "You probably don't have a problem walking about naked."

"I don't," he said shortly.

Hermione studied him.

"Hm. It took a lot of work to get you back in my bed," she said smiling at him.

"I shouldn't be here, Miss Granger. I should be in my own rooms," he said quietly, not looking at her.

"Why? Because you felt something for me other than lust?" Hermione asked.

"No. I didn't feel anything different toward you, Miss Granger. You are still just a woman, although a very powerful one. But your magic is seductive when combined with sex. I don't want to get caught in its hold. I've already been seduced by two Masters." he said.

"So does that mean you won't shag me again, Professor?" she asked him, her face frowning slightly.

"No, it doesn't. I will shag you because it is in my best interest to keep other wizards away from you. Though I am afraid the Dark Lord has even greater designs on you, now that he knows you can share your power with your sex partner at climax. He covets your power," Snape said.

He turned his head to her.

"Be careful of what you eat and drink with him from now on. And I don't know if you can discern through glamours or transfigurations, but you need to be on your guard. He might attempt to impersonate me. You will know the difference if he enters you, however. My penis, when aroused is rigid. His penis moves like a snake."

Snape looked at her thoughtfully.

"You should test me every time I come to your rooms. Place your hand on my loins through my robes. It will arouse either the Dark Lord or me. If you feel me swell and throb, then you know it is me. But if I swell, throb and start to wriggle about, you will know it is the Dark Lord," Snape said, smirking a bit.

Hermione looked at him.

"That sounds pretty nice for you. Every time you come in here I give you a pseudo-handjob. Gods," she said.

"Can you think of anything better?" he asked her.

"Not at the moment. But I'll be thinking about it," she said, yawning. She rolled over

"I'm going to sleep. All that activity made me tired. Good night, Professor," Hermione said. The torches dimmed.

"Good night, Miss Granger," Snape said, turning to face away from her.

Everything was getting so complicated. It was all going to boil to a head soon.

Snape hoped he wouldn't be the one burned.

* * *

Harry returned to his room late, in the hope that Ron would be asleep. No such luck. The red-haired wizard was awake and sitting on the side of his bed when Harry walked in. Harry wordlessly undressed and got into bed as Ron looked at him. 

"Harry?" Ron said in a low voice.

Harry ignored him.

"Harry, I'm sorry," Ron said, "When I thought of Hermione with Snape, I just exploded. It was too much for me to take. You know how I feel about her."

Harry shifted in the bed.

"I know we'll never be together, Harry. She made that much clear when we tried to be a couple. She's just too smart for me, and she wouldn't want to settle down, be a housewitch and raise a bunch of squalling redheaded Weasleys. Even if she wasn't a Primordial," he said plaintively.

Harry didn't say a word. But Ron was right about that. Hermione was never meant for him.

"She's so beautiful. The thought of her giving all that beauty to a heartless, unfeeling bastard like Snape, who wouldn't appreciate her, just made me crazy. But I know Hermione wouldn't go to the Dark Lord's without a reason, even if Snape did take her. I didn't mean those things I said about her Harry, I swear I didn't. She wouldn't betray us. She wouldn't betray you," Ron said softly, "I needed to be punched in my big mouth. I don't know how to shut up. Come on, Harry…give a bloke a break, won't you?" Ron pleaded.

Harry sighed. He and Ron had been through so much together. He was a git, but he was a loyal git. He couldn't cut him off.

"Hermione told me she might be leaving. Going into hiding," Harry said softly from the bed, "She said I would hear awful things about her, and not to believe them. They wouldn't be true."

"She did, Harry?" Ron said, glad his friend was talking to him again. Then he frowned. "I wonder why she didn't tell me?" He started to scowl.

Harry lifted his head up from the bed and turned toward Ron. He saw the look on his face.

"Ron, you're doing it again. Stop thinking about yourself. She probably didn't tell you because she knew you would have badgered her for every little detail," Harry said, sitting up now.

Ron fell silent as he imagined how he would have reacted if Hermione said she were leaving and going into hiding. He'd have wanted to know why, where, when and with who. Harry had a point. He wouldn't have been able let it go with her just saying she was leaving.

"Right," he said sullenly. Then he looked up at Harry.

"Harry, what can we do to help her? The Order is going to kill her," he said, pain evident in his voice, "We've got to do something, Harry."

Harry wasn't about to tell Ron he was going to see Voldemort tomorrow. The red-haired wizard would have insisted on coming, and it made no sense for both of them to risk death. For Harry, it was certain death, if not necessarily immediate. The Dark Lord would probably 'play' with him first. But if there were any chance he could talk to Hermione, maybe even get her out of there, he would take it.

"I don't know what we can do, Ron," Harry said to his friend, lying back down in his bed. "Let's sleep on it, all right?'

Ron climbed into his bed.

"All right, Harry," he yawned, dropping to his pillow. He was asleep in moments. Ron was like that. He never had problems falling asleep when he was tired.

Harry stared at the wall. He wished he had Ron's ability.

* * *

As Hermione slept, dreams came to her. But they were more than dreams. She saw herself in Voldemort's throne room, talking with the wizard. Then, she was willing her power to go to him. The Dark Wizard was shaking and smiling broadly, his eyes closed and arms extended over his head as the power flowed through him. The dream ended. 

Hermione woke up, realizing she could give the Dark Lord a taste of her power without having to have sex him. His lust after all, was based on his desire for her abilities. She was so relieved. Letting a wizard with a snake for a tool shag her was not a priority on her "things to experience" list. She looked over at Snape. He was still turned away from her, hugging the very edge of the bed. It was obvious that he didn't want any additional contact with her. There was no subconscious spooning this time. The need to stay away from her had sunk into his psyche. Hermione sighed. He had easily fallen into the role of lover, once he decided it was in his best interest to do so. A gentle lover? No. Hardly that. But he was more attentive and fed her need for contact beyond his penetration. Too bad what he gave her wasn't real. What was real however, was their connection at orgasm. She felt his darkness tangibly, took it into herself, and soothed it. She felt him release that evil part of himself for a moment and cling to her. It must have shaken him terribly to have relinquished control to her in that manner.

She had a feeling that once this situation was resolved, if Snape survived, he would move on, leaving everything remotely connected with his life as a deatheater behind. That would include her. He would probably begin again. She doubted if he would ever be able to feel as others felt. He would probably never know love, never be able to connect with another human being. But he would probably be content to shag strange witches dispassionately as he lived out the rest of his days, much as he did now. It seemed a sad life, but it would be a free life. A free life was all the wizard wanted.

And herself? She was a Primordial. She would have wizards flocking to her, each hoping to be her consort. Courting her not for herself, but to bask in and reap the rewards of her status as the most powerful witch in existence. She doubted whether she would ever find another wizard suitably dark enough to satisfy her darker needs without wanting her power. Most would probably be awed by her, properly respectful, subservient and ready to bend to her every whim.

She lay down again, her amber eyes focused on the sleeping wizard's back. The Professor had saved her life and risked his own in the process, turning against the Order. He had stoically suffered the Cruciatus because of his sexual relationship with her. Snape had his own reasons for doing theses things, but the fact remained she had reaped the benefits of his actions. If he were an ordinary wizard, she would cling to him as her hero, fall head over heels in love with him and probably marry him in time. But that would never happen. Hermione rolled over and faced away from Snape.

Looking at him was starting to hurt too much.

* * *

After breakfast, Harry and Ron went to the room of requirement to practice dueling. The room set up a large round and empty area, with a lot of doors in the walls and a raised throne in the center. There was nothing to hide behind, which would make dueling much more challenging. Harry had never seen this scenario, but had a feeling what it was. 

"I think this is Voldemort's throne room," Harry said to Ron who winced on hearing the Dark Lord's name.

Ron looked around with wide eyes.

"Why would the room of requirement set up Voldemort's throne room?" he asked, walking up to the throne and looking at it closely, before mounting the stairs and sitting in it majestically, lifting his chin proudly, and holding his wand like a scepter.

"I don't know," Harry lied, "Maybe it picked up the aura of the approaching final battle and created this scenario in anticipation of us storming Voldemort's stronghold."

Ron nodded. It was as good an explanation as anything. Harry sighed with relief. Ron wasn't stupid. He would have figured out Harry planned on going to Voldemort. He would probably figure it out when he found him gone this evening. He'd be livid.

"Come on, Ron, take some shots at me. Low-impact stunners only. I just want to see how long I can avoid them," Harry said, taking a defensive stance.

Ron sat in the throne for a moment, posing…then suddenly shot a fast stunner toward Harry, who leaped out of the way, and began running in a zigzag pattern toward the throne as Ron tried to hit him. Harry finally got stunned when was only about fifteen meters away from the throne which wasn't bad. Ron had pretty good aim.

Ron waited for Harry to recover, then suggested that he try to get behind the throne instead of running directly for it. Harry backed up the wall again, as Ron pretended to be the Dark Lord.

"I'll get you Missssster Potter!" Ron lisped, throwing an initial stunner at Harry. Again, the Boy Who Lived dodged the blast, then ran around the perimeter of the room, starting and stopping, slipping between the blasts until he made it behind the throne. He got even closer this time, before Ron picked him off.

Ron wanted a turn. Even though Harry wanted to practice some more, Ron would get suspicious if he didn't get a couple of tries. The red-haired wizard pressed his long, gangly body against the wall in readiness. Harry felt strange sitting in Voldemort's throne. It made his stomach feel a little queasy. Harry focused on Ron, and feinted a couple of times, making Ron take off running before he actually fired a blast. Harry aimed a blast right in front of him, and Ron slid right into it. Harry grinned.

When Ron recovered, he argued Harry had cheated by feinting. Harry countered with the fact that the Dark Lord would cheat, so he was well within his rights to feint. The argument erupted into a full wizard's duel, using stunners of course, and both wizards ended up stunned and blinking on the floor.

"This really isn't productive, Harry," Ron said as he pushed himself up.

"Yeah," Harry agreed rising and brushing off his robes.

"But we should do it again, this time with us firing back at the Dark Lord," Ron suggested.

Harry didn't think he'd have a wand available when he went to Voldemort. Malfoy would probably take it away from him before they even left for the Dark Lord's stronghold. But it couldn't hurt.

Harry backed up to the wall again. He started the offensive this time, firing a blast at Ron who leaped out of the throne and ducked behind it. Harry charged, zigzagging again, blasting at the throne as he ran. He kept Ron pinned down and managed to reach the base of the throne before getting stunned.

"That was pretty good, Harry. Too bad you got it in the end. Good try though," Ron said encouragingly as the stunned wizard blinked up at him.

The two wizards practiced attacking Voldemort for a couple of hours, then left the room of requirement for lunch.

Harry felt a little better. If the Dark Lord tried to take him out immediately, he could scramble for it. Maybe run through one of the many doors around the throne room. It could give him a little time anyway. The doors in the room of requirement didn't open, but the ones in Voldemort's stronghold probably would.

The two wizards entered the Great Hall and headed for the Gryffindor table. Harry seated himself and looked across at the Slytherin table. Draco Malfoy was smiling evilly at him. The blonde wizard drew his forefinger across his throat, flopped his head to the side, his tongue hanging out and eyes closed. Then he grinned at Harry.

"Malfoy's such an ass," Ron commented, scowling at the grinning Slytherin.

"Yeah, he is," Harry said, pulling a platter of chicken legs toward him.

This could be his last meal.

* * *

Snape awoke to the smell of hot sausages. His stomach growled fitfully as he opened his black eyes. A covered table and two chairs stood a few feet away. On the table was an assortment of breakfast foods. Sausages, eggs, biscuits, ham, and sweet rolls. He could smell fresh coffee, and pushed himself up, sliding to the edge of the bed. He could hear the shower running. That explained where the Primordial was. 

He stood up, stretched, and walked over to the table. Miss Granger would probably like to eat her meal with him, but he was too damn hungry. Shagging the Primordial and taking that curse from the Dark Lord left him drained. He needed nourishment. She'd just have to understand.

Snape drew out a chair and sat down, reaching for the coffee pot first, and pouring himself a cup. He took a sip, and sighed. He then piled ham, sausage and eggs on his plate, with a sweet roll. He tucked in. The food was delicious. It was rare to get a full meal at the stronghold. Voldemort was a thrifty bastard. The available selection of foods available was probably only because of Miss Granger's presence. Normally, only a thin meat and potato stew was available. More like soup actually. So Snape was enjoying the variety.

Hermione walked out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around her. She looked at the Potions Master eating hungrily and smiled. Her towel became a dress, an exact copy of a form-fitting green one the Dark Lord had provided for her. Her hair was pulled up and held in place with a green comb. Snape looked up at her.

"You're getting good at that," he commented. She looked delicious. He wouldn't mind lifting up that dress.

Hermione merely smiled and sat down. She knew what randy thoughts he was thinking. Snape wasn't in love, but he was in-satiable. She started filling her plate with ham and eggs. She picked up biscuit and poured herself a glass of pumpkin juice. Snape hadn't noticed the pitcher of pumpkin juice. He was almost sure it hadn't been there before the Primordial entered the room. He shrugged to himself. If she wanted to use her formidable powers to create cold pumpkin juice, it was her right.

"I've come up with a solution other than feeling you up every time you come in this room," Hermione said, giving him a half-smile. "I hope you aren't too disappointed."

"Actually, if you have a better idea, I'd appreciate it. The idea of constantly getting aroused and not getting relief doesn't thrill me by any means," the Potions Master said.

"I can let Voldemort experience my powers voluntarily. Will it to go to him. That will solve his lust problem. It is my power he is actually lusting after, and not me," she said, taking a bite of ham and chewing appreciatively.

Snape looked at her.

"You can do that?" he asked.

"Yes, I'm sure I can. Magic obeys me now. I think I've come to full power," she said.

Snape leaned back, his hunger sated and studied her.

"Yes, that sounds like a solution. Voldemort will be pleased by this. But…"

Snape's black eyes swept over her.

"…you are a lovely young witch, Miss Granger. He might still want you."

Hermione frowned for a moment.

"Well, hopefully his lust to experience my power, will supersede his lust to experience my body," she replied. "I am going to go to him right after breakfast and apologize for last night and offer to let him sample my power this evening, with the excuse it is easier for me to manipulate later in the day. He won't know the difference."

"Sounds like a plan," Snape said. He stretched again and patted his stomach. Hermione smirked. He seemed so normal right now.

"I hope that we can do the exchange of power unobserved. I'd feel more comfortable if it were just he, you and I," Hermione commented, eating some eggs.

"That shouldn't be a problem. Voldemort prefers not having an audience. Deatheaters are only in his presence when he feels voyeuristic, or has orders to give or wants to make a show of power. Other than that, he sits in there day and night alone."

"I noticed that. Doesn't he ever sleep?" Hermione asked.

"No. He has evolved past the need to sleep. He only requires to be fed. He doesn't even have to relieve himself," Snape said.

"What? Ew." Hermione said, scrunching up her face. But then again she couldn't picture the Dark Lord straining on the loo. She didn't want to either.

Snape chuckled.

"He is not human anymore, Miss Granger. His body functions mostly on magic now with the help of the venom potion he imbibes."

"Venom potion?" she asked, "What's that?"

Snape's face darkened. A potion I developed years ago to extend his life during his search for immortality. It has many…ingredients."

Hermione looked at him.

"I bet those ingredients cause people their lives," she said with a frown.

"Yes, they do," Snape said shortly. "But I do what is required of me, Miss Granger. If that means draining muggles of their vital fluids, then that is what I do. It is how I've served the Dark Lord these many years. But now he has other deatheaters adept at brewing, and I am no longer as valuable to him as I once was. And since I no longer can spy on Dumbledore and the Order, the only thing I have going for me…is you, Miss Granger. I have been regulated to sexually babysitting you to keep you happy."

"How far the mighty have fallen," Hermione snickered as Snape scowled at her blackly. She'd pay for her levity.

Snape stood up.

"May I use your shower, Miss Granger?" he asked.

"Certainly," Hermione replied. A change of clothing for him appeared on the bed. Black pants, black silk boxers, a white dress shirt, and a fine quality black robes embroidered with black serpents. There were black socks also, and his boots were on the floor beside the bed. He looked down at them, then up at the witch.

"Thank you, Miss Granger," he said, gathering them up and walking into the bathroom. He closed the door. In a moment Hermione heard the shower turn on.

She finished her breakfast, then exited her rooms and approached the Dark Lord, who sat sullenly on his throne. He hadn't had a pleasant night thinking about her and her powers.

Hermione stopped in front of Voldemort and gave him a curtsey. The Dark Lord's eyes swept over her. She looked lovely. He looked at her, one scaly brow raised.

"Yes, Primordial?" he lisped.

"My Lord, I would first like to apologize for my actions last night. You've accepted me as a guest in your domain and offered me your protection, and I repay you by thoughtlessly imposing my values on you. I am very, very sorry, my Lord, and spent last night trying to figure out how to make up for my terrible behavior. I believe I have found a solution that will please you," she said.

The Dark Lord perked up a bit. Maybe she would offer herself to him. It would only be right.

"What is your solution, Primordial?" he lisped.

"Your displeasure was because the Professor could not describe to you what it was like to experience my power. My Lord, I can make it so you can experience it yourself firsthand."

Voldemort's eyes narrowed with lust. Hermione fought back a blanch at the hungry look on the despot's face.

"Are you offering me the same pleasures you share with Severus?" the Dark Lord lisped. Hermione noted with horror that his robes in the loin area were moving, the fabric rippling. She must have aroused him.

"N-no, my Lord. I do not need to have sex with you to give you a taste of my power. The sharing of it during climax is not as strong as if I will it to go to you, my Lord. I would like to share my powers with you directly this afternoon. I seem to have more control of them in the evening," Hermione lied.

Voldemort was excited. Doing her really wasn't that important. She was pretty but he had plenty of beautiful deatheaters to choose from. If she were willing to let him experience her powers for himself, he was all for it. Possibly he would retain some of the raw magic and it would strengthen him. He was very, very pleased.

"Very well, Primordial. Your error last night is both forgiven and forgotten. And your solution pleases me. I look forward to this experience Primordial, very much. In return, I would like to grant you a boon. What would you like, my dear?" he asked.

"Your word that you will not torment the Professor with the Cruciatus again, my Lord," Hermione replied without giving it a second thought.

The Dark Lord frowned slightly. He had thought she would ask for something for herself, not for his servant. But a boon was a boon.

"Granted, Primordial," he lisped, "I hope Severus appreciates what you have done for him."

Hermione curtsied.

"Thank you, my Lord," she said, smiling at him. She headed back toward her rooms.

The Dark Lord tapped a long finger to his thin lips.

There were other forms of torture besides the Cruciatus curse. Severus was not beyond his power. The Dark Lord rubbed his hands together.

This evening would be quite the experience.

* * *

A/N: More to come. Thanks for reading. 


	13. Chapter 13

**Inside the Blackest Heart Part 13**

Harry had quite a time ditching Ron. The red-haired wizard was still feeling guilty about fighting with Harry and wanted to make it up to him, which meant sticking to him like glue for the whole day. It was only when Harry hinted that he was feeling a bit peckish and couldn't wait for supper, Ron offered to nip down to the kitchens and get something to nosh from the elves. Harry gave him an extensive list of what he'd like and promised to wait for him to return.

As soon as Ron was out of sight, Harry sped upstairs to his room and scrawled a quick note on a piece of parchment, folded it, and left it on Ron's pillow. Then he headed out of Gryffindor tower, down the shifting stairwells and out the main doors. He walked across the grounds to the main gates, where he would meet Malfoy Sr.

* * *

Hermione and Snape spent the afternoon in Hermione's rooms. The Potions Master served as an unwilling guinea pig for Hermione to practice sending her powers to. Snape was an excellent subject, simply because he didn't really want the powers, so Hermione deduced that desire was not a factor in sending the stream of magic to another. 

Hermione stood facing the stubborn Snape and willed her power to stream from her to the Potions Master. Snape's eyes widened as the power rushed through him. It wasn't unpleasant except when she ended the stream, it made his stomach drop as if he were falling from a great height.

"Are you finished, Miss Granger?" he said, holding his stomach after about the fifth test.

Hermione smirked at him.

"Yes, Professor. Gods, you are such a whiner," she commented as he walked slowly over to the armchair and sat down. He was glad he had time to digest his lunch or he was positive it would be all over the bedroom floor by now. He glowered at Hermione.

"Miss Granger, you may enjoy being a conduit for raw magic to roar through, but I assure you I don't," he said evenly, his pale hand going to his stomach again.

"It doesn't roar through, it streams through. Nice and easy," Hermione retorted.

"Maybe for you, but trust me, it is a very powerful rushing sensation," he replied.

Hermione thought about this and decided the Professor was correct in his description. When she first felt the magic, it did roar through her like a mighty waterfall. She would have to warn Voldemort before they started. She looked at the clock. It was five minutes to five.

Her everyday robes materialized around her and she took a deep breath. It was time to go see Voldemort.

"Are you ready?" she asked the chair-ridden Snape. He nodded and rose slowly, still feeling queasy. He was a bit paler than usual.

Hermione looked at him with her hands on her hips.

"Oh, honestly Professor!" she said irritatedly. In a moment his queasiness was gone. He raised his eyebrows at her.

"If you ever quit being a Primordial, you would be an excellent healer," Snape observed.

"Who says I can't be both?" Hermione replied, heading for the door. Snape followed.

The couple walked into the throne room to find an excited Voldemort pacing in front of his throne. The Dark Lord looked up and saw them, a broad toothy smile breaking out across his reptilian face. His red eyes were glittering.

"Ah, Primordial. It seemed as if this day would take forever to pass. I felt your power quite a bit this afternoon," he commented, looking at her curiously.

"I was practicing sending the stream of magic through Professor Snape. It worked very well," she said.

Voldemort looked at Snape.

"Yes, I can feel the residual magic wafting from him. There were no ill effects?" Voldemort asked Snape.

"A feeling of discomfort when the stream stopped my Lord, akin to falling from a great height," Snape replied.

Voldemort waved his scaly hand dismissively.

"Nothing to fear," he said, then his red eyes turned on Hermione, "can we begin, Primordial?"

"Yes my Lord, however I should warn you that the rush of power may be extremely strong and unsettling," Hermione said, rolling up her sleeves.

"I am used to powerful magic flowing through me, Primordial. I have been subjected to quite a few alterations in my being over the past years, and most of them involved powerful forces. I should be able to handle the force of your stream," the Dark Lord said.

"Very well," Hermione said, positioning herself about ten meters in front of Voldemort. Snape walked over to the wall a safe distance away, leaning back on it with his arms folded. He didn't want to accidentally get caught in the stream again.

Voldemort stood in front of the Primordial. The wizard cleared his mind and opened it fully, ready to accept the flow of Hermione's force.

Hermione stood, willing the magic to flow through her. It started as a trickle of power, then intensified, the force of magic increasing into a powerful steady stream. Hermione let it rush freely through her for several minutes. Then she focused on Voldemort, seeing him in her mind's eye as another conduit, bending the flow of magic toward him. She felt it begin to shift.

"Be ready, my Lord!" she warned.

The Dark Lord stood still, ready to receive her power. He felt a small shifting within him, starting at his feet, a strange upward motion trickling up his body. He shuddered as he tasted the first faint pulses of power.

"Yessss!" he hissed as the flow increased, adding its power to his own. He willed it to continue, and instead of letting the flow pass out of him, he retained it, willing for even more power.

Hermione, who had been controlling the flow, gasped when suddenly she felt an increase of magic. She wasn't doing it.

"Voldemort! Are you pulling power through me?" she called to the wizard, who was standing there, his arms extended upward, his eyes closed, a great, wicked smile on his face.

"Yes, you are strengthening me," he gasped, reveling in the forces filling him. He was swelling inwardly with the new influx of strength.

Hermione felt the rush of magic increasing into the waterfall like rush of her earlier experiences.

"My Lord!" she called, "You need to stop! It's too much power!"

"No! There is no such thing as too much power!" Voldemort shouted back, pulling even more magic from the Primordial's conduit. He began to glow, a white pulsing aura surrounding his thin body.

Snape watched, mesmerized. He had a bad feeling about this.

Hermione was forcing herself to remain standing. Magic was rushing through her so powerfully she felt as if the flow were dragging her down to earth. This was not the effortless flow she was used to, this was something different.

Voldemort was surrounded by power now. It swirled about him angrily as he absorbed more and more, power crackling from his extended fingertips.

"Yes! Yes! I will be invincible, truly invincible!" he cried in his high-pitched voice. His body began pulsating with power.

"My Lord, stop! Stop!" Hermione cried, but Voldemort was lost in an orgy of power. It crackled from his eyes, his mouth, even the small ear holes in the side of his scaly, bald head.

"I shall be the most powerful wizard on earth!" he exulted as he throbbed with raw magic. The glow around him was so bright, Snape and Hermione covered their eyes.

"Yes! Yes! Y…no. No! No!" the Dark Lord began to scream. The white aura began to darken, swirling tightly around him, seeming to smother him.

"No! No! NOOOOO!" Voldemort screamed in a horrible voice as the magic wrapped around him tighter and tighter. He looked like a mummy wrapped in pulsing gray strips of light.

Hermione was frozen with horror to the floor, unable to move and unable to end the stream as she watched the wizard writhe horribly as the magic looped about him, tightening. Snape was staring, also unable to move. It was highly doubtful he would have gone to the Dark Lord's aid even if he could.

Voldemort's thin body became thinner, and his voice, more distant. The magic tightened around him until all they could see of him was a thin line of power. Suddenly the flow stopped, and Hermione gasped, stumbling forward. The thin line of power disappeared.

Voldemort was gone.

Suddenly Snape let out a howl, clutching his forearm and stumbling forward. He ripped his cuff and yanked the sleeve upward. His mark was red and bubbling.

"Gahhhh!" he screamed, clutching at the mark and falling to his knees. All around the wizarding world, wizards and witches were in the same horrible state as the Potions Master. Finally, after several minutes he stopped writhing. He looked down at the Mark. It was gray instead of black. He rose unsteadily to his feet. Hermione had watched him with horror in her eyes. Suddenly she sucked in a large, gasping breath. She had held it for quite a long time without knowing it.

Snape and Hermione stood face to face, both panting. Hermione's eyes were wide as saucers.

"Did we just kill Voldemort?" she asked the Potions Master, her voice quavering.

Snape looked around the throne room. There was no sign of the Dark Lord.

"I think Voldemort killed himself," Snape said, "But no matter. We will be blamed for it as soon as the deatheaters get here." Snape said.

"Shit," Hermione said, looking around desperately.

Then her amber eyes fell on the Potions Master appraisingly.

"Hold still," she said.

The minute she said it, Snape started to flee. Call it intuition, call it a sixth sense, call it what you want. Snape just instinctively knew he had to get away from the Primordial. Unfortunately he wasn't fast enough.

Suddenly he felt very strange as her power washed over him. Snape held up his hand. It was thin and scaly. He was dressed in scarlet robes. He touched his face. It was scaly, hairless and lipless. His big, beautiful nose was gone. There were only slits where his nostrils should be. His red eyes widened in horror.

Hermione had transformed the Professor into the spitting image of Lord Voldemort.

"Miss Granger, are you fucking crazy?" he lisped, drawing his scaly brows together and scowling at her.

"Just get up on the throne, Professor! Hurry up!" she hissed at him.

Not knowing what else to do, Snape grabbed Voldemort's wand off the floor and sprinted for his throne. Just in the nick of time too. Peter Pettigrew came barreling through one of the doors, holding his mark and grimacing.

"My Lord, what has happened?" he panted, bowing low to the transformed Snape.

The wizard cast his red eyes toward Hermione, who gave him a little shrug. He'd have to wing it.

Shit.

* * *

Harry approached the main gates. He was a bit early, but he would rather be early than late. It just so happened that Lucius, excited about the prospect of bring the Boy Who Lived to his Master also arrived early, and was waiting in a copse of trees. He saw Harry approaching and his heart tightened as the young wizard unwarded the gates and stepped through, warding them back. He looked around. 

"Mr. Potter," Lucius drawled, stepping from between the trees.

Harry's heart clutched in his chest as the handsome blonde wizard approached him. He took a deep breath, willing himself to be calm.

"Malfoy," he said, purposely leaving off the 'Lord'. Lucius scowled at him.

"I understand you wish to be taken to the Dark Lord of your own free will. Why would you do such a thing, boy? You know he will kill you," Lucius said, frowning at Harry.

"My friend is there. I want to see her," Harry said.

"Ah, the mudblood witch. Yes, my Lord is very taken with her. She is going to help him defeat the Order," Lucius drawled.

Harry frowned.

"She would never help him," Harry said vehemently.

Lucius smiled at him.

"Mr. Potter, you have no idea how seductive evil can be. It can turn the most angelic person to a demon intent on their own pleasure and gain," the deatheater said.

"Hermione's no angel, but evil wouldn't seduce her," Harry said stubbornly. "She's on the side of good."

"Really. I doubt that since the side of 'Good' tried to kill her parents," Lucius replied, "if not for the Dark Lord's protection, the witch would be an orphan today."

"You're lying!" Harry said, but he had a sick feeling in his stomach.

"It was your own Headmaster, the very leader of the Order who tried to take them out, Mr. Potter. I have no reason to lie about this. Your 'friend' enlisted the Dark Lord's aid to save her family. She is in his debt."

Harry fell silent. This explained why Hermione felt she would be safe with the Dark Lord. Dumbledore tried to kill her parents to keep her under his influence. And Voldemort saved them. He shuddered. Still, that didn't mean she'd help him. Voldemort may have done well by Hermione, but he was still a murdering bastard who killed Harry's parents and tried to kill him as a baby.

"In his debt or not, I still want to see her," Harry said.

"Very well," Lucius said, "It's your funeral. Your wand, please."

Lucius held out his hand expectantly. Harry was about to hand it to him when a searing pain shot through his scar.

"Arrrgh!" Harry screamed, clutching his forehead and gasping from the pain that shot through his head. He had experienced pain before from the scar, but nothing as agonizing as this. Lucius cast a silencing spell over them as Harry continued to scream, falling to the ground, both hands over his scar. The blonde wizard looked down at him dispassionately. Whatever pain the boy was going through was nothing compared to the pain the Dark Lord would give him.

Harry writhed for a few minutes, his vision dimming. He saw a flash of Hermione standing in a room, her eyes wide with horror. Then it was gone. The pain in his head stopped suddenly. Gasping, he tried to roll to his feet.

Suddenly Lucius Malfoy let out a horrible scream, clutching his forearm. It was Harry's turn to watch as the wizard howled in pain, staggering about in agony. Finally, gasping, he pulled up the sleeve of his robes and looked at his arm.

"It's changed color," Lucius said, staring at the gray mark in wonder. He looked at Harry.

"Your wand," he said again, holding out his hand. He was trembling slightly.

Harry handed Lucius his wand. The wizard stuck it in his pocket, and pulled out a piece of fabric.

"What's that?" Harry asked as the wizard shook it out.

"A hood," Lucius said. At first Harry jerked his head back as the wizard attempted to pull it over his head.

"Do you want me to take you or not, Mr. Potter? I require you to wear this hood. It will make for a more dramatic presentation when I deliver you to the Dark Lord," he said evenly.

Harry acquiesced. Lucius put the hood on him, and grasped him firmly by the arm.

"Say good-bye to Hogwarts, Mr. Potter. I doubt if you will ever see it again," the wizard said. They apparated.

* * *

Ron was running full speed toward Dumbledore's office, a piece of parchment clutched tightly in his hand. He was completely green as he navigated the hallways, bumping into students, who grumbled after him as he continued without apology. 

He had returned to the common room loaded down with treats from the kitchen, and found Harry gone. Thinking he might have walked up to their room, Ron went upstairs. Harry wasn't there. He saw the bit of folded parchment on his pillow, and his stomach immediately dropped. He dropped the food on his bed and grabbed the note, unfolding it quickly. He read it.

**_Ron_**

**_Have gone after Hermione._**

**_H._**

Ron had sat down on his bed in shock. Harry had gone after Hermione, which meant he had gone to Voldemort…and didn't take him. Ron felt hurt and betrayed for a moment, but quickly shook it off. He had to save Harry. Dumbledore was the only answer he could think of.

He slid to a stop in front of the gargoyle that guarded the entrance to Dumbledore's office. He tried a number of passwords but the statue didn't move.

"Open up, dammit!" Ron yelled, beating on the statue. Suddenly it leapt aside, revealing the spiral staircase. Some Order members emerged. Ron pushed past them, taking the stairs two at a time and bursting into Dumbledore's office.

The Headmaster was bent over a map. He looked up at Ron and saw the crazed look on his face.

"What is it, my boy?" he asked Ron, straightening.

"Harry….Hermione….the Dark Lord…bad…real bad…" Ron panted, holding out the note.

Dumbledore took the parchment and read it. He went pale. He rushed to his file cabinet and took out the Marauder's Map.

"I solemnly swear I am up to no good," he intoned. Both he and Ron scoured the castle. Harry was nowhere to be found.

"He's left Hogwarts," Dumbledore said, falling into his chair, "We have no idea where Voldemort's stronghold is."

Ron looked at him.

"If only we could track him…get a message to him…something," Ron said in despair. Suddenly, the red-haired wizard looked up.

"Headmaster! I think I know how we can find Harry!" he said excitedly.

Dumbledore looked up at the boy doubtfully. He had the best minds in the wizarding world working on finding Voldemort's lair with no results. Not one deatheater he tortured would reveal it. It seemed Voldemort had put a spell of silence on them that even veritaserum or pain could not break.

"How?" Dumbledore asked, not enthusiastically.

"Hedwig, Harry's owl. Hedwig can find anybody anywhere! Even if the place they are is unplotted. She's done it before. We can put a tracking spell on her, and give her a message to take to Harry. She'll find him sir. She's a right smart bird," Ron said excitedly.

Hedwig was Harry's snowy owl. Her phenomenal powers of location were true. She had found Dumbledore when he was on vacation in a secret location. She had also found Sirius Black when he was in hiding. And she delivered messages to Order Headquarters, which was unplottable. If anyone could find Harry, she could.

"Ronald Weasley, you are brilliant!" the Headmaster said, rising from his desk quickly. "Come, we have much to do and little time with which to do it."

He and Ron exited the office and headed for the owlery.

It was time for the Final Battle.

* * *

Peter Pettigrew stood before Voldemort's throne looking up at his Lord. He had been sleeping when the Mark began to burn horribly. He had a bruise on his forehead from falling face first to the floor. 

Snape looked down at Peter.

"The Primordial fed me an influx of magic that caused an spike in my power. Your mark and the mark of every deatheater was activated as a result. The change in color reflects my increase in strength," Snape said, trying to look majestic.

Peter absorbed this information. It made sense.

"I see, my Lord," he replied.

An uncomfortable silence ensued. Hermione looked from Snape to Peter and back again. Finally the squat little deatheater said, "It is time for your feeding, my Lord."

Snape blanched. Voldemort's elixir would kill him. He thought quick. He waved a dismissive hand at the little man.

"My feedings will no longer be necessary, Peter. The magic I've received from the Primordial has increased my strength to the point I will no longer require the elixir," he said.

Peter's mouth dropped open.

"This is excellent news, my Lord!" Peter said. He was glad. Milking Nagini for venom was always a dangerous chore. The snake didn't like him. The feeling was mutual.

"Yes it is, Wormtail," Snape responded, warming to his role. "Now you may go. I wish to speak to the Primordial alone." He waved his hand dramatically towards the door.

The deatheater bowed.

"Yes, my Lord. Thank you my Lord," Peter said, leaving.

"Oh, and Peter?" Snape said.

The little man stopped.

"Yes, my Lord?" Peter asked.

"Nagini. Turn her into a pair of snakeskin boots in a size eleven," Snape said. He always hated that snake. But he rather liked snakeskin boots.

Peter smiled broadly.

"Yes, my Lord," he replied, scampering off to do the deed. As soon as he disappeared through the door, Hermione turned to him.

"Snakeskin boots?" she asked, frowning at him. Snape smiled at her with the Dark Lord's pointed teeth. She shuddered.

Snape looked her up and down. His scaly eyebrows rose slightly.

"Did you transform everything?" he asked, his red eyes glittering.

"The only snake in your pants is your original one," she spat at him. How inappropriate for him to bring up his tool at a time like this.

"Pity," he said, looking down at his robes. Hermione scowled at him.

"Enough about that. What the hell are we going to do? There are six thousand leaderless deatheaters out there, and the Order is still after me and Voldemort," Hermione said.

"Well, since Voldemort is dead, and you were the method of his demise, Dumbledore won't have a viable reason to kill you, at least not an acceptable one for the wizarding world. Technically, if the knowledge gets out, you are a hero. However, Dumbledore has to cover up his attempt on your family and there is also the problem of you being the strongest witch on earth and not under his influence."

"Ok, I need to let the Order know Voldemort is dead and I killed him. Then I have to find a way to get Dumbledore out of power. I don't know how I am going to do that."

Snape was about to reply when suddenly, Lucius Malfoy appeared, and he had someone with him. The person had a hood over his head.

"What now?" Snape thought.

Lucius walked forward, dragging the person with him.

"My Lord, I have a gift for you," Lucius said, bowing low, a broad smile on his face. "I believe you will be very pleased."

He ripped the hood off.

"Harry!" Hermione gasped, "What are you doing here!"

Snape was stunned. Gods, the Potter boy. More than likely come to save Hermione. The young wizard had as much sense as a fucking flubberworm. He was lucky the Dark Lord was dead.

"I had to come see you, Hermione. The Order is after you. They want to kill you," Harry said.

"Harry Potter. What a pleasant surprise," Snape said in a high-pitched voice.

"Voldemort," the wizard said, glaring at Snape. Snape's red eyes cut to Lucius.

"You have done well, Lucius. You have delivered my nemesis. I am most grateful. What boon do you ask in return for this great gift?" Snape asked him.

Lucius bowed.

"Thank you my Lord. I only ask that my wife not be required to be used by my brothers, my Lord. She is delicate, and does not hold up well under their ministrations, my Lord," the blonde wizard said.

Snape looked at him. He had Narcissa before. She held up pretty well in his opinion. She actually seemed to enjoy being brutalized. Well, Lucius probably just wanted to keep her to himself.

"Granted, Lucius," he said, flicking his scaly hand at the wizard.

Lucius smile broadly. "Thank you, my Lord. What do you want me to do with this?" he asked, shaking Harry by his collar. Before Snape could reply, Harry elbowed Lucius hard in the side, and snatched his wand out of the wizard's pocket. Lucius huffed and staggered to the side. Hermione willed him to freeze in place, and the wizard stiffened. Only his gray eyes shifted back and forth.

Harry pointed his wand at Snape. The dark wizard could see murder in the young wizard's eyes, and readied himself.

"Avada Kedavra!" Harry shouted. Hermione screamed. Snape leaped behind the throne as the curse hit.

"Harry! No!" Hermione screamed as the wizard ran forward.

"I know he helped you, Hermione, but he killed my parents!" Harry yelled running around the throne. Snape jumped down and started running in a zigzag pattern, the scarlet robes billowing.

"Damn it, Miss Granger! Do something!" Snape yelled as he avoided another blast from Harry's wand. He threw a wandless stunner at Harry, who dodged it, throwing another hex at Snape. Hermione was speechless with horror for a moment. Then she snapped out of it, running after Harry as he pursued Snape around the throne room, firing blast after blast.

"Harry, no! He's not Voldemort!" she screamed. Harry aimed another blast at the dodging, feinting Snape. He missed again but came close.

"He looks like him to me!" Harry panted. Hermione latched on to his arm, stopping him from throwing another hex. She turned his face to hers.

"No Harry, he's not Voldemort. Voldemort's dead," she said softly. Snape transformed back into himself. Lucius Malfoy's eyes widened.

Harry stared at the irate Potions Master as he stalked toward him, scowling blackly.

"Professor Snape!" he said flabbergasted as the Potions Master collared him, shaking the stunned wizard until his teeth rattled.

"You almost killed me you idiot!" he snarled. Hermione grabbed at Snape's hands. He had an iron grip on Harry's robes, and she pulled at them ineffectually.

"He didn't know it was you, Professor. He thought you were Voldemort," she said, still yanking at his hands.

The Professor's black eyes shifted toward Hermione for a moment. Her amber eyes were pleading. He looked back at Harry, and roughly released him.

"Voldemort…dead? How?" Harry said weakly as Hermione walked the shocked wizard to the base of the throne and helped him sit down.

"He wanted to experience my power, Harry. When I gave him a sample of it, he pulled more and more raw magic from me, trying to absorb it. It was too much and it destroyed him," she said.

Snape watched them interact, his mouth twisted in an ugly sneer. Snape had suffered greatly at the hands of Voldemort protecting the young wizard. He was whipped severely when Dumbledore took him into hiding at twelve Grimmauld Place and Snape lied and said he had no idea where Harry was. Now the idiot comes directly to the Dark Lord's stronghold. He would have been killed if Voldemort had been alive, and Snape would have gone through all that agony for nothing.

There was another problem. Knowing Harry, he had told someone where he was going. Probably that idiot Weasley. The Order had probably quadrupled their efforts to find him. And with Voldemort's death, the protection around his stronghold was probably fading. It would be possible to locate it. Which meant the Final Battle was about to begin. Only there was no one to battle any more, except them.

"Mr. Potter, did you inform anyone where you were going?" Snape asked him nastily.

"I-I left Ron a note saying I was going for Hermione," Harry said. Hermione was holding his hand soothingly. Snape felt like throwing up. Everybody babied the wizard. How did they ever believe he could defeat the Dark Lord?

"Well, that means the Order will be on us, shortly," Snape said, "Voldemort's protection around the stronghold should be fading if it isn't already gone. The stronghold will be plottable."

His black eyes shifted toward Hermione.

"Miss Granger, can you look outside of this building and see if anyone or anything is approaching us?" he asked her.

"I don't know. I'll try," she said.

Hermione willed herself to see beyond the walls. An image of the outside superimposed itself over the throne room wall. Snape and Harry both could see what she saw. Something small was in the sky approaching. Hermione focused on it.

"That's Hedwig!" Harry exclaimed.

Yes, it was Hedwig. And there were several mounted hippogriffs flying behind her.

"Order reconnaissance," Snape observed. "They will scout the location and return to Dumbledore with the coordinates. More than likely he has already assembled several thousand Order members to attack the stronghold. Perhaps we need to summon the deatheaters to fight."

"No," Hermione said firmly, "I won't pit wizard against wizard. There has to be another way to stop the Order. The Dark Lord is dead and the deatheaters have no leader. Tell me, Professor, were there any officers in the ranks, who commanded the others to fight?"

Snape shook his head.

"No. Voldemort didn't trust anyone to give orders but himself," he said, "like most despots he feared overthrow from among his ranks. He did not want any leaders among his deatheaters for fear they would garner loyalty and rise up against him."

"So, there is no one to rally the deatheaters to arms then," she said.

"No," Snape replied, "without the Dark Lord to direct them, there is no one."

"Seems a terrible way to fight a war," Hermione mused.

"Any way one fights a war is terrible, Miss Granger," Snape replied, "Voldemort did not care how many of his deatheaters would die, as long as Order members died and he could get a clear shot at Dumbledore. Even Harry was secondary. He never really feared the boy. He did have his moments of doubt, such as when knowledge of the Prophecy came to him. But after the Dark Lord failed to acquire it, he realized that the greatest leaders created their destinies, not waited for them. As you see, the Prophecy came to naught. Harry did not kill him."

"Voldemort knew he could defeat Harry one on one. He was too powerful for one so young to handle," Snape said, looking down at Harry with a frown. "Harry's ability to destroy Voldemort was a myth that Dumbledore perpetuated to keep the wizarding world focused on the Boy Who Lived, so the Headmaster could do his little dirt with none being the wiser. You were meant to be martyred, Mr. Potter. I spent years protecting a young wizard I always knew was marked for death. It didn't make me particularly fond of you."

Harry met Snape's gaze, his green eyes wide.

"So, Miss Granger, we have one despot down, and one more to go. The Order is closing in on this stronghold, and will strike first. You are a target. You cannot let them take you," he said.

Lucius Malfoy stood listening to all of this, still frozen in place, unable to move. The Dark Lord dead? That meant he was free of him, finally. Lucius had remained loyal to the Dark Lord because it was the only way to stay alive. The pureblood would be perfectly content to return to his Manor and never don his deatheater robes or answer a summons again. He'd miss the Revels, but could live without them. He had never wanted to give his life or the life of his family for Voldemort's dreams of conquest. The wizard had fallen under Voldemort's spell of power and gain when in his youth. He, like Snape realized early on how insane the Dark Lord was, but was in too deep and didn't have the strength Snape did to leave. He was too frightened of retribution. Of death.

The truth of the matter was, many deatheaters felt this way. The Dark Lord was too cruel a Master to inspire true loyalty. He ruled by fear. His death would only be mourned by a few zealots. Most were like Snape, and wanted to return to their lives. Without Voldemort's threatening presence, most of the six thousand deatheaters would not rally and fight. Lucius wished they would release him. He'd simply wish them luck and head for home. But they were ignoring him completely. What on earth was holding him here?

Hermione looked thoughtful. Then she brightened.

"We have to bring Dumbledore to this stronghold and talk to him. Try to make him see reason," Hermione said. Snape looked at her as if she had been dropped on her head.

"Bring him here? Miss Granger, if Dumbledore got within a thousand meters of you or me, he'd blast first and asked questions later," Snape said, "what in the world do you think you could say to make him be reasonable?"

"Nothing," she said, with a little smile.

Snape and Harry stared at her, not knowing what to think.

"We can bring him in by taking a Wizard's Oath that we wish to talk only, then he can return to his command. He can take one also, saying he will do the same. That will give us even ground and insure there will be no violence between us," Hermione said.

"But what good will that do?" asked Snape, "He will still be able to lead the Order and attack us."

He scowled at the witch. This was only going to forestall the inevitable. She should just blast the old bastard to bits and be done with it. But then again, she was a Primordial. No one could hurt her anyway…but him? He could be hurt if something went wrong.

Snape noticed motion out of the corner of his eye. Wormtail was standing in one of the doorways, holding a pair of snakeskin boots and ogling Harry, his beady eyes wide. He saw Snape looking at him and went for his wand.

Snape blasted the deatheater with a wandless stunner, knocking him unconscious, then walked over and picked up the snakeskin boots. He looked them over.

"Nice job, Peter," he said, before casting a binding spell on him. Grabbing the unconscious wizard by the foot, Snape dragged him over to the floor by Lucius and left him there. Snape turned, and looked Lucius in the eye for a moment, then walked back over to Hermione and Harry. He had nothing against Lucius. He was just another hapless follower of the Dark Lord…another misguided puppet.

"Now, you were saying, Miss Granger?" he said, the snakeskin boots still in his hands.

"I want to get a message to him. Hedwig should be here by now. We'll use her to send Dumbledore a request to come talk with us before he attacks. He'll want to see what he's up against, so he'll come as long as the Oath is in place. We'll send Harry to walk him in," she said, looking at Harry.

"What do you say Harry?" Hermione asked him. Harry frowned.

"My whole life he's been setting me up to get me killed, he tried to kill your parents, he's trying to kill you…I really don't want to see him, Hermione. I don't know if I'll be able to control myself. It would be one thing if you were going to keep him here, or punish him when he arrived, but you plan to let him go back…I don't understand," Harry said.

Hermione smiled at Harry.

"Harry, I know what I'm doing. Just trust me. Do you think you can control your temper enough to walk him back here?" Hermione asked him softly.

Harry looked at her, his green eyes hard.

"Please, Harry," she said.

The young wizard capitulated.

"All right, Hermione. I'll do it, but I don't like it," he replied.

Snape was sitting on Voldemort's throne, taking off his black leather boots and replacing them with the snakeskin ones. Hermione looked up at him.

"What are you doing, Professor?" she asked him.

"What does it look like?" he replied, "If I'm going to be killed because of your asinine idea of bringing Albus into our midst, I want to go out like the muggle cowboys, with my boots on."

Hermione snorted. If this worked, no one would have to die or even be hurt.

* * *

A reluctant Snape walked through the corridor leading to the outside of the Dark Lord's stronghold. He had to get Potter's bloody bird. He came to a great, heavy wooden door that looked as if it hadn't been opened for ages. Snape cast an alohamora spell at the door and pushed against it. Of course it was strongly warded. Shit. This would take forever. 

Hermione and Harry were watching Snape through the image Hermione cast on the wall. The scene seemed to shift to whoever Hermione concentrated on, almost like a magic mirror. The Primordal watched Snape struggle with the wards for a couple of minutes, then removed them, causing Snape to fall out of the door when he shoved against it heavily and it gave way.

Harry laughed.

"Did you do that?" he asked her, chuckling. Hermione was smirking at the image.

"I couldn't resist. He's such a sour bastard," she replied.

The Potions Master pushed himself off the ground and shook his fist angrily at the air.

He knew Hermione had purposely made him fall.

Harry looked at her soberly.

"If he's such a sour bastard Hermione, why do you let him…let him…" Harry began.

"Because he does something for me, Harry. It's like he knows what I need," she said softly, not looking at her friend.

Harry looked at the dark wizard searching the sky.

"I just can't see him caring about anybody," Harry said.

Hermione took a deep breath.

"He doesn't care about anybody but himself, Harry. In the beginning, he had sex with me because I wanted it, and it gave him pleasure to do it. Deflowering Dumbledore's princess and using her mercilessly appealed to him. I think in his mind he was getting the Headmaster back through me. I can't explain how it kept going…but here he was ordered by the Dark Lord to keep me happy. But he doesn't care about me. He just likes to do me. And I like him to do me."

Harry looked at his friend open-mouthed.

"You wanted it? I was sure he talked or blackmailed you into it, Hermione. I mean, there's nothing to like about him at all. He hates everybody, and is truly evil," Harry said, trying to understand, but finding nothing to hold on to.

"Yes he is, Harry. I'm attracted to his evil I guess. One thing I'm sure of is no other wizard will ever make me feel like he makes me feel. And when all this is over, he's going to go and not look back," she said, her voice quavering as she looked down at her hands, twisting her fingers.

"So, tell him how you feel," Harry said, not believing he was telling Hermione to pursue the snarky Potions Master. He winced a little.

"It won't make a difference to him, Harry. He's already told me how he feels nothing outside of the actual physical pleasure of shagging me. And after what happened the last time he was with me, he might never touch me again, now that Voldemort's dead," she said.

Harry was about to ask what happened when Snape entered, with an angry, biting Hedwig. Snape had his fist wrapped around both her legs and was holding one wing with the other hand. The angry owl was beating her free wing and writhing, nipping at the hand around her legs. There were little bites all over the back of it.

A pissed Snape threw the irate bird into the air, and Hedwig flew towards Harry, landing on his shoulder and preening his hair lightly before looking back at Snape and actually hissing. Snape ran his injured hand through his hair and glared at the bird.

"If we didn't need you…." Snape growled at Hedwig, who flapped her wings and turned her lifted tail towards him.

"Miss Granger, that bloody bird bit me," Snape complained, scowling blackly at the bird as Harry took the message off her leg. "Nothing bites me and lives."

Hermione sighed. Suddenly, Snape's hand was whole again.

"Thank you," he said stuffily, glaring at Hedwig. Then he stalked over to Hermione who was busily looking at the image. He stood in front of her, his black eyes hard.

"You purposely unwarded that door so I'd fall," he accused.

Hermione looked up at him, her amber eyes round with innocence.

"Now Professor. Why would I do such a thing?" she asked him.

Snape snorted. "I don't know why. You're a woman. Women do things for the strangest most insane reasons." He said glowering at her.

"Well, you made me one," she snapped back.

Snape blinked his eyes at the Primordial, at a loss for words. Finally, he said grumpily, "I'll be in your study if you need me." He stalked off, with his trademark billow of robes.

Hermione watched him go with a satisfied little smirk. Then she turned to Harry, who was watching Snape stalk across the room, scowling.

"You sure seem to get under his skin," Harry said.

"He probably would have strangled me if I wasn't a Primordial," Hermione commented, "I'd pin his ass to the rafters if he tried it now."

Harry looked at Hermione strangely.

"Strangle you?" he asked worriedly.

"Never mind, Harry," she said, "What does the note say?"

"Oh, it says 'Help is on the way.'" Harry replied.

Hermione looked at the image and willed it to show Dumbledore. He was standing outside, watching some hippogriffs land. Order members jumped off them and ran to the Headmaster, gesturing excitedly. The Headmaster listened, nodding. Then he turned and raised his arms, shouting something. Hermione panned back and saw the Headmaster was addressing at least two thousand Order members.

"Shit," she said. "Harry we need to get that message to him soon.

A quill and parchment appeared before her.

"Ok, I have to set this message up so the Oath takes effect when both parties sign it.

**_Dear Headmaster,_**

**_Voldemort is dead. I would like to talk with you before further violence starts. I would like you to come to the stronghold for a discussion on where we stand. Maybe we can come to a reasonable solution that will avoid bloodshed. Harry is here too. He will come and escort you to the stronghold if you agree to hear me out. To insure peaceful negotiations, please sign below my signature to take a wizard's oath that you will not attack or seek to harm anyone during this talk. I in turn agree that you will not be attacked or harmed by anyone during this talk and shall be allowed to return to your ranks unharmed when we are finished with our conversation. With your signature, the Wizard's Oath will be invoked._**

**_X Hermione Granger_**

**_X_**

Hermione reread the letter.

"That should do it. I don't think he will let anyone know Voldemort is already dead. He will come to see for himself first. Here, tie this to Hedwig and send it to the Headmaster, Harry," Hermione said.

The wizard tied the note to the owl's leg securely.

"I'll take her out," Harry said, rising and exiting through the doorway that led to the outside, Hedwig on his shoulder. Hermione watched them go.

"Gods, I hope this works," she breathed, "for all our sakes."

* * *

Snape was not in Hermione's study. When he went into her rooms, he cast a disillusionment spell on himself and eased back out into the throne room while Harry and Hermione were putting their heads together over the message they would send to Dumbledore. 

He entered another door and walked a long corridor, following it to an iron door at the end. He unwarded the door and entered the room behind it. He lit the wall torches with a wave of his hand, and looked around, his eyes narrowed.

This was his lab, where he had brewed elixirs and conducted experiments for the Dark Lord for many years. This was the place where he truly lost his soul and committed his worst atrocities. His black eyes fell on the bloodstained tables and floors, lifted to the chains that hung from the ceiling, slipped over the tables holding razor-sharp knifes and other tools used to separate the spirit from the body. He gazed at the distilleries, the beakers still filled with dried crimson. The Potions Master stood there for several minutes, taking in the room and committing it to memory.

Then he started blasting.

* * *

A/N: More to come. 


	14. Chapter 14

**Inside the Blackest Heart Final Chapter (Followed by Epilogue)**

As Snape destroyed the lab, his eyes fell on a small bowl on the far counter. He stopped his destruction and walked over to it. This wasn't anything of his. He looked down at its silvery contents and curiously stuck a finger in it. He watched, his eyes widening, then narrowing. He removed his finger and picked up the bowl. The Primordial needed to see this. He walked to the door of the lab and opened it, stepping into the hallway. He set the bowl on the floor and turned back to the room. Concentrating, he let loose a powerful blast which decimated all that remained behind. Satisfied, he closed the door, picked up the bowl and headed for the throne room.

Hermione and Harry were glued to the image of Hedwig flying in search of Dumbledore. They didn't seem to register Snape emerging into the throne room. He walked up to the pair, and watched Hedwig flying for a moment, then he looked at Hermione.

"Miss Granger, I have something here that you should see," he said, holding out the pensieve.

Hermione's brow was furrowed.

"I don't need to see it. I saw what you saw, Professor," she said quietly, then turned to look at him. "I also saw you cleaning house."

"I destroyed the lab to keep anyone from discovering the secrets to the terrible brews I created," Snape said, "the world's better off without them."

"Concern for the world, Professor Snape?" Hermione said, "How human of you."

Snape scowled, "More like concern for myself. We've got rid of one menace. Have one more to go. I just don't want to leave anything around that could help another crazy wizard with dreams of conquering the world to rise to power. Two are enough for one lifetime," he said.

Then he looked at the image.

"Seems like Hedwig's found her mark," he said.

Hermione turned back to the screen. Indeed, Hedwig was descending towards Dumbledore, who held up his arm. Hedwig landed neatly on it. The Headmaster removed the message and unrolled the parchment. His blue eyes scanned from left to right, his eyebrows raised almost to his hairline. He gave a little smirk, his eyes twinkling. Then he looked thoughtful. He reached into his robe pocket and produced a quill. Holding the parchment flat in his palm, he signed it. Suddenly powerful magic swirled about them. In the scene, the parchment in Dumbledore's hand glowed blue, then disappeared. The Oath had taken.

"Yes!" Hermione said, springing up and pumping her arm, dancing around the throne room. Snape's black eyes followed her, and did Harry's green ones. Neither wizard knew what the Primordial was so happy about. Albus coming to see them was nothing to rejoice about. Hermione stopped dancing and looked at their sober faces.

"Relax! I'm telling you, I know what I'm doing. You just have to trust me. It's going to work out and no one will be hurt," she said, trying to reassure them.

"Well at least tell us what you're doing," Harry said to the witch.

"No, it will work out better if I don't. But I want both of you to participate in the talks. Tell him what you feel. Be honest," she said. "It is important that you address each issue you have with him. Very important," Hermione said. "It is time to clear the air between us and the Headmaster. It is our only hope.

"That's just going to make him angrier, Miss Granger," Snape said.

"I know it is," she replied, "that's exactly what I want."

* * *

Albus couldn't believe it. Voldemort was dead. Dead. His nemesis was finally out of the way. He might have had some doubt, but the Oath taking assured him he was in no danger. If Voldemort had been alive and planning to ambush him, the Oath could not have been invoked. And if Miss Granger wanted to talk, it meant that she must not have come into full power yet, and was still vulnerable. She would have no need to talk to him if she were at full power, she could wipe him and the entire Order out of existence with a single thought.

He would talk to her all right. And then he would return to his ranks and order them to raze the stronghold to the ground, taking no prisoners. It was a shame about Harry having to die though, but the boy had served his purpose. The Headmaster was sure Miss Granger and Severus had turned the boy irrevocably against him. Voldemort was dead now, and Harry's usefulness had come to an end. He would die with the rest of them.

Ron's idea had been brilliant. Harry's owl led the Order reconnaissance team directly to the stronghold. Now they were on the move, two thousand Order members ready to apparate en masse and attack. Once Miss Granger and Severus were out of the way, he would be free to pursue his own goals. Hell, he might even take credit for the death of Voldemort, making himself a hero. That would work out nicely.

Albus turned to the Order members, who stood at attention. They were quite impressive in their white Phoenix emblazoned robes, wands held at rest by their sides. He drew in a proud breath. They would listen to any order he gave them.

Albus applied the sonorous charm to his throat and addressed the troops.

"I must leave for a time. I want you all to remain here, and await my return. Then we will rid the wizarding world of Voldemort's evil forever!" he said loudly, throwing up his arms. The Order members all cheered as Albus apparated. He appeared about two hundred meters in front of the stronghold.

Hermione, watching the image of Albus apparating outside, turned to Harry, who was frowning blackly at the visage of the Headmaster.

"Harry," she said with a note of warning in her voice, "Go get him. Don't attack him, don't tell him anything. If he asks you for details, tell him he'll hear all he wants to know from me, okay?

Harry nodded and headed out to meet the Headmaster and bring him back to the throne room.

Snape looked down at Hermione.

"Do you think this wise?" he said, his black eyes searching her face. "Will this plan of yours work, Miss Granger?"

Hermione looked at him, her eyes narrowing a bit lustfully. Snape raised an eyebrow at this look.

"How about a little wager, Professor? I know that the moment this situation is resolved, you're going to leave and not look back. I want to be with you one more time before you go," she said.

Snape quirked his eyebrow at her, his black eyes glinting. She could tell he was interested.

"Be with me? What does 'be with me' mean?' he asked in a low voice. "I'm with you right now," he said, his lips pursed. He was going to make her say it.

"I want to have sex…" she began

"You mean fuck," he amended.

"All right! Fuck! You don't make this easy, Professor," Hermione said, frowning at him.

"If I made it easy, Miss Granger. You wouldn't want me so badly," he replied. "I'll tell you what, Miss Granger…you get me out of this mess and I will give you a farewell shag that will keep you bowlegged for a week," he said silkily, moving closer to her, his body inches from hers, his black eyes glittering and hot with promise. He drew a finger down her cheek and over her throat. Hermione shuddered.

Now, there was incentive.

As the witch and wizard stared at each other, Harry and Albus walked into the throne room. Both stepped away from each other and stared at the Headmaster, who frowned slightly.

"I see you two are still rutting like hippogriffs. A pity the girl threw her charms away on you, Severus. You are so unworthy," the Headmaster observed. He took a bit of parchment out of his robes pocket and transfigured it into a chair. He looked at Hermione.

"And you pick this sorry example of a wizard to give yourself to? And you really think yourself capable of making responsible decisions, Miss Granger? Your very association with Severus proves you are not," he commented. Albus was wasting no time trying to cow the young witch.

Snape didn't say a word. He knew he wasn't the kind of man Miss Granger should have given herself to, but hell, she offered. He didn't feel bad about playing mattress tag with her at all. He'd do her right in front of Albus if she'd let him, just to piss the old bugger off.

Hermione didn't expect Snape to defend her. But she defended him.

"But he was good enough to spy for you and the Order all those years," she retorted, "good enough to be beaten and tortured for the false information you made him give the Dark Lord. He tried to get out, and you pushed him right back in."

"Severus knew what he was getting into," Albus said.

"You made him rape, maim and murder in the name of the Order, Headmaster. You made him into the monster he became," she said, "you authorized everything he did. He worked for you," Hermione said. "he gave so much to the Order, he gave information, his blood and his very soul. And now you want to kill him," Hermione said. "Is that fair after all his service to you?"

"Severus is a liability to me. If people knew I had sanctioned his actions as a spy for the Order, and made him serve the Dark Lord, then the blame for his actions would be transferred to me, and I would be ruined, Miss Granger. He has to die. Plus, he rescued you when you should have been left to me, and brought you to my enemy. He deserves to die for his betrayal," Dumbledore said.

"But you, you were going to kill me," Hermione said.

"That was your fault, Miss Granger. You shouldn't have had the Dark Lord protecting your parents! You turned on the Light!" he said.

"I turned on the Light, because the Leader of the Light tried to kill my parents to keep me under his power. If Professor Snape hadn't pled my case to Voldemort, my mother and father would be dead! Let me show you!" Hermione snapped.

Hermione stuck her finger into the Pensieve and the scene played itself out, with Dumbledore's glamour dropping and revealing him as himself as he stood in front of the Granger's flat, under fire from the deatheaters. Harry was horrified.

Dumbledore smirked. "That was a good glamour if I must say so myself. Yes, Miss Granger. Your parents were expendable. It all would have been for the greater good. You would have come to me broken, and I would have comforted you, and put you to work for the Order. And you would have worked hard to design spells to destroy Voldemort and his ranks. You would have been fueled by the need for revenge. It was a perfect plan. We wouldn't be here today if it had gone correctly."

"Headmaster, isn't there any way we can solve this without you trying to kill us? I haven't done anything deserving death. And Severus was just following orders and trying to protect me," she said. That was a stretch for a description of what Snape had done for her. But she had reason to stretch it.

"No, Miss Granger. You must die because of what you are becoming. A Primordial. I cannot have a witch exist in this world with so much power, and not be under my influence. Right now, you might not be interested in my plans to unify the wizarding world under one leader, but when you get older, you could possibly reconsider, and with one thought undo everything I worked so hard to accomplish. I can't take that chance Miss Granger. You must die before you reach full power.

"I can't believe I ever trusted you!" Harry said, staring at Dumbledore. "I can't believe that you are just as evil as Voldemort was. You only handled your evil better. How could you try and kill Hermione's parents! How can you kill Hermione because of something she can't help being? And how can you want to control the wizarding world when you fought so hard against Voldemort doing it?" Harry cried. His hands were clenched in fists against his sides. More than anything he wanted to run over to the Headmaster and start pummeling him. But he couldn't charge him. The Oath was stopping him.

"The wizarding world needs a firm leader. There are too many inequalities. Too many heads and not enough limbs to do the work. I will be the one head, and the wizarding world will function as a perfect body," Dumbledore said, his eyes shining.

"The Ministry will have something to say about that," Harry said.

"The Ministry will no longer exist!" Dumbledore hissed. "Even now I am whittling it down from within, causing dissension with my accusations and demands. It will crumble in upon itself, so anxious to suit public opinion it will break its own foundation. Then who will be there to pick up the pieces and set everything to order? Me," Dumbledore laughed horribly.

"Headmaster, I am pleading with you. Spare us!" Hermione said, tears beginning to stream down her face.

Snape shook his head. He should have known she'd turned to tears. She wasn't as strong as he hoped she'd be. They were going to die if she didn't use her powers and wipe the Order out. There was no other way. The Primordial would have blood on her hands after all.

Albus looked at the crying witch, his blue eyes hard and unfeeling.

"Miss Granger, try to face your demise with dignity. This 'talk' is over, and was a total waste of time if you ask me. By the way, how did Voldemort die?" he asked.

"He tapped into my power and took too much into himself, and kind of just disappeared," Hermione replied, sniffling.

Albus shook his head. "And you couldn't stop it?" he asked, looking for confirmation that she still couldn't control her powers.

"No," Hermione replied. It wasn't a lie. Voldemort did take over the stream.

Albus nodded, certain Hermione was within his grasp.

"He always was a greedy bastard," Albus said,. "Well, since no one knows he's dead, I'll take credit for that too, being that you three won't be around to refute me. You have to die too, Harry. You know too much. Don't worry, I'll tell the wizarding world you died a hero. That Voldemort killed you, but you distracted him so I could strike the final killing blow."

"You fucking monster!" Harry spat, almost frothing at the mouth from his desire to attack the Headmaster, and unable to advance on him. Snape watched the shuddering boy with amusement. He peeked into Harry's mind. The boy was so upset he never felt him. Snape's eyes widened at the numerous painful scenarios of Albus' death running through Harry's mind. He had quite a bit of darkness in him for a Gryffindor

Snape longed to cast the Killing Curse on Dumbledore, but he knew it wasn't going to happen. So he just listened and waited for Hermione's great plan to come to fruition. Albus stood up.

"I think I've said all I needed to say. I will return to the ranks now and give you a few moments to make your peace. There is no protection around this stronghold, it will be razed to the ground with you all in it. If you attempt to leave they will kill you on sight, believing you to be servants of the Dark Lord," Albus said walking toward the door he entered through. He paused as he looked at Lucius and Peter, who were both staring at him in wondrous terror. Neither had known Albus was such an evil, evil wizard.

"At least you have an heir, Lucius, your family line will continue. Can't say the same for these three," he said, tossing a thumb over his shoulder at Hermione, Harry and Snape. He was right. They all were the last of their lines. He looked down at Wormtail.

"You finally get what you deserve, Peter. It's long overdue," Albus said as he walked through the door, down the corridor and out into the day. He apparated.

Snape and Harry looked at Hermione.

"That served absolutely no purpose. They will be on us in several minutes. I take it you are going to swish us all away to safety? I didn't want to be a fugitive, Miss Granger. Expect no cock from this Potions Master," Snape said, folding his arms and scowling at her.

Even Harry was pissed.

"Hermione, I could have at least hurt him. That's all I wanted to do. Hurt him, cause him pain. I can't believe he's the man I trusted all these years!" Harry yelled in frustration, kicking at the ground and throwing a hex at the wall.

"No, I will not be taking us to safety. We are going to stay right here and watch this image," Hermione said, as Albus returned to his ranks. He invoked the sonorous charm again.

"Members of the Order, followers of the Light, the time has come to defeat the Forces of Darkness. It is time to apparate to the stronghold and raze it to the ground, thus destroying the evil that is Voldemort forever!

"FORWARD!" Dumbledore cried, apparating for the fortress, death glowing in his narrowed blue eyes.

* * *

Albus apparated about one hundred meters in front of the fortress, his blue eyes glittering with malice behind his half-moon spectacles.

"ATTACK!" he cried, charging for the door. Then he stopped and looked behind him.

No one was there. Not one Order member. What the hell happened?

Dumbledore apparated back to his ranks. They were all standing there looking at him.

"I told you all to apparate! What's wrong with you all? Can't you follow orders? It is time for the Final Battle!" Albus yelled at his troops.

The Order members all stood there, looking at him. Some looked uncertain. Others were staring at him with frowns. A few had narrowed eyes.

"What's going on here?" Albus said, grabbing a member by his arm and shaking it.

As an answer, the Order member pointed up. Albus followed his outstretched arm with his eyes. His heart dropped. There, floating in the air was an image of Hermione, Harry and Snape, looking at him.

Hermione grinned.

"Everybody wave!" she said, waving broadly..

Harry and Snape looked at each other.

"Hello, Headmaster!" Hermione said. Albus blinked up at her. He heard her loudly and clearly. His expression grew dark.

Harry and Snape realized that Albus could hear Hermione. Which meant that his troops had heard the whole 'talk'. Both he and Harry broke out in broad smiles and started waving at the Headmaster.

Snape grinned down at the witch.

"So the whole order heard everything Albus said?" he asked, amazed.

"Yes, but not only the Order. The Ministry, Hogwarts, the Wizengamot, the Daily Prophet and the general public. I sent the image to every shop, every inn. I had it in the sky over Hogsmeade and Little Hangelton. I even broadcast it over every station of the Wizarding Wireless. Now everyone knows what he has done, and what he tried to do. Dumbledore's finished. The Order won't obey him now. No one will. He'll be taken if he doesn't flee. And I'll make sure he doesn't flee," Hermione said, narrowing her eyes.

"Hermione! You are bloody brilliant!" Harry said, taking her in his arms and swinging her around until she was gasping in the young wizard's arms. He planted a kiss firmly on her nose.

Hermione smiled and blushed as she worked her way out of his iron grip.

Snape shook his head.

"Miss Granger, I've heard it said before that you are the brightest witch of the age. I didn't believe it until now. Well done, Primordial," he said, bowing to her and kissing her hand. Not only had Hermione made Albus tell on himself, but exonerated Snape from his service to the Dark Lord in the process. Everyone knew he was working for the Order. He would probably be despised by most for the rest of his life, but he wouldn't end up in Azkaban. He would be free, just like he wanted.

They turned back to the image. Albus was staring up at them, his face black. One of the Order members walked up to the wizard.

"Dumbledore, we can no longer serve you. Your evil is just as bad, if not worse than Voldemort's. Actually, it is in our best interest, and the interest of the wizarding world, to take you into custody and deliver you to the Ministry for judgment of your crimes," the member said, taking hold of Albus' arm firmly. Other members formed a close circle around the wizard.

"Unhand me!" Albus said, trying to jerk his arm away. But the Order member held on, a grim look on his face. Fine, he would blast his way out. Albus tried to summon a blast, but found he couldn't. Then he tried to apparate. Nothing happened. He looked up at the image of Hermione, looking down on him, and knew. He knew she had come to full power. She had either taken or dampened his magical ability so he couldn't escape.

"Come with us, Dumbledore," the Order member said.

"But, I'm your leader," Albus said, the whites of his eyes showing.

"Not anymore," the Order member replied, apparating with the wizard. Several more members accompanied them.

Another Order member stepped to the fore. He looked up at the image floating in the sky and cupped his hands to his mouth.

"Miss Granger! You, Severus and Harry are free to go! No one has any problem with you here. The Final Battle is over before it began. Voldemort is dead, thanks to you. There will be no more bloodshed,. He called up at her.

"Thank you!" Hermione called down at him, smiling. The Order members began apparating away.

Hermione turned to Harry and Snape, dusting off her hands.

"And that, gentlemen, is that," she said.

Snape looked at her, his black eyes glittering.

"I wouldn't say that, Primordial," he said, stepping forward and grabbing her. Hermione squealed as he swung her up in his arms. Snape looked at Harry, who was watching them, his mouth open.

"Excuse us, Mr. Potter," Snape said silkily, "I have a promise to fulfill."

Harry looked over at Lucius and Wormtail.

"But what about them?" he asked, pointing at the wizards.

"Let Lucius go, and hold Peter for the Aurors," Snape said over his shoulder as he carried Hermione to her rooms. The door opened by itself as they walked through, then closed behind them.

Harry looked at the two bound wizards. He took out his wand and tried to free Lucius from his frozen state. It didn't work. Then suddenly, the blonde wizard was able to move. Hermione must have released him.

"Good gods," Lucius said, rolling his shoulders, and jerking his head from side to side trying to get the blood flowing through his muscles again. Then he looked down at Harry.

"Potter, you've got to be the luckiest wizard on earth," he said, his eyes sweeping over the young man. He hesitated, then said in a surprisingly warm voice, "Good luck to you."

Then just like that, Lucius Malfoy Sr. apparated and was gone.

Wormtail looked up at Harry.

"What about me? I was just serving the Dark Lord to stay alive. I never believed in his dream," the rotund little wizard squeaked.

Harry scowled down at him.

"Yes, but you betrayed my parents so Voldemort could kill them, then you killed thirteen people and pinned it on Sirius. By rights, I should kill you for that, but that would make me a murderer like you and the Dark Lord. You're going to Azkaban, Wormtail. That's where you belong. Hopefully, you'll end up in a cell right next to Dumbledore," the green-eyed wizard said.

Wormtail moaned. Then he brightened and tried to transform to rat form. He found he couldn't. Hermione.

"You just wait here. The Aurors will come for you in a bit," Harry said. Then he apparated back to Hogwarts. There was no reason to stay here. Voldemort was dead. Hermione and the Professor were otherwise occupied.

Plus, he had to give Ron all the juicy details.

* * *

Snape carried a breathless Hermione through the door. His black eyes were locked hungrily to hers as he carried her to towards the bedroom. He looked so intense that Hermione began to rethink his promise

"Um, Professor…I really think I'd like to be able to walk," she said softly as they entered the bedroom.

Snape chuckled at this as he set her down on the bedroom floor.

"I'll try to keep that in mind, Miss Granger," he said, starting to unbutton her robes.

Hermione was surprised. He normally just divestoed her clothing. He didn't undress her. She looked down at his large, pale hands as they expertly undid each fastening. He had such long fingers…and what they could do.

Snape noticed Hermione going half-lidded as she watched his hands opening her robes.

He surreptiously muttered the legilimency spell and looked into her mind. It seemed lust clouded her Primordial powers somewhat, because she didn't feel him there. He decided to keep the link open this time, locking his consciousness to hers.

The first thing he saw was his hands. But they weren't unbuttoning her robes. They were moving slowly over her naked body, over her throat, across her shoulders, down her collarbone, and lingering at her breasts, cupping, fondling and caressing them languidly. The image was very erotic, and Snape growled low in his throat despite himself. He normally didn't indulge much in caresses, but her obvious pleasure in his touching her body was arousing.

He parted her robes and slipped them off her shoulders, throwing the garment on the armchair. She wore a t-shirt and jeans beneath. He caught the bottom of the t-shirt and pulled it upward slowly, Hermione raised her arms obligingly as he removed it, also throwing it on the armchair., Hermione's amber eyes were locked on his face as he tugged at her jeans, unsnapping them, then sliding the zipper down. Snape had to bend to lower her jeans, and bringing her thoughts of his hands to mind, slid his hands over her waist, and slipped them between her hips and the denim fabric passing over her panties. Her breath caught.

Hearing Hermione's breath hitch, Snape knelt, sliding his hands and the jeans slowly down her thighs and calves, down to her ankles, caressing her soft, warm flesh beneath his palms and fingers. She stepped out of her jeans, left only in her bra and panties. Snape stood up and looked down at her. In her mind she was undressing him. Snape grasped her hands and brought them to his throat.

"Undress me," he said huskily.

Hermione swallowed and her hands shook slightly as she began to unbutton his robes. Snape caressed her back as she worked at his robes, letting his hands slip down over the swell of her buttocks, slipping his fingers beneath her panties. The witch began to breathe faster. She had his robes halfway open. In her mind she was already working on his shirt.

"I'll finish my robes, Miss Granger, start on my shirt," Snape said softly, taking his hands from her body and finishing unbuttoning his robes as Hermione's hands moved to his shirt. Her eyes were locked on his pale skin as she opened each button. She unconsciously licked her lips as more and more of his chest was revealed, then the ripples of his belly. She pulled his shirt out of his pants impatiently, her eyes focused on his chest. He looked in her mind and emitted a little groan as he saw her mouth running across his chest.

"You may kiss me if you like, Miss Granger," he breathed, hardening. Hermione slowly pressed her soft lips in the center of his chest, her hands sliding under his shirt and tracing the scars of his back as she ran her mouth over his skin. He brought his hands back to her body, deftly unsnapping her bra and sliding the straps down one arm, removing it from his body as he slip her bra off, then letting her replace it, before sliding the other strap down and removing the bra completely. Now her breasts were bare and he caressed them as she continued to kiss his chest, her hands sliding over his back and lower back, her small fingers dipping beneath the waistband of his pants.

Suddenly she stopped kissing him, looking up at him with a strange expression on her face.

"What is it, Miss Granger?" Snape asked her, his brow slightly furrowed, his hands still on her breasts.

"Do you think…just this time, this last time…you could call me by my name? Hermione? I'd just like to hear how it sounds when you say it, Professor," she said, her voice very small as if waiting for him to chastise her for asking such a thing.

He looked at her, arching an eyebrow.

"And I suppose you want to call me by my given name as well?" he said to her. Hermione nodded.

"Miss…Hermione, after what you've done for me today, I will call you anything you wish. And for this last time, you may call me Severus, but afterwards…"

"I know…Professor," Hermione replied quietly. He had given her permission to call him by his name, but she wasn't quite ready to say it yet. He had said her name, and it sounded so delicious rolling off his tongue, she felt a rush of wetness between her legs.

"Do you want to finish undressing me, Hermione? Or should I finish for you?" Snape asked her. In reply, Hermione's small hands rose to the front of his pants and began to unfasten them. Her hand grazed against the hard bulge concealed beneath the fabric, and he hissed, watching as the witch bit her lip and peeled back his fly. He throbbed at the look on her face when she started pulling his pants down, kneeling as she did so. The Potions Master's whole body suddenly tensed with raw desire and it took every bit of control to keep him from grabbing the witch and throwing her to the bed.

"Hermione," he breathed. She shuddered visibly as he said her name. Snape stepped out of his pants, left in his tented black silk boxers. She stood up. The Potions Master's nostrils pulsated as he smelled how aroused the Primordial was. Primordial. The most powerful witch in the world. She destroyed the two most despotic wizards in the wizarding world without spilling a drop of blood. She had freed and exonerated him. And he was about to take her for the last time. It had to be the last time.

The Potions Master wasn't blind. It was clear Hermione was in love with him, something that he had wanted to avoid. He wasn't the kind of wizard to love. He enjoyed doing her, but he didn't want her beyond that. She had done nothing to break through his core of coldness to reach his black heart. There was nothing anyone could do to breech that broken, twisted part of him. He was what he was. Snape appreciated what she had done for him, but he took many risks to get her to the point where she could do something for him, and for herself. He appreciated it, but he didn't love her for it. But he could give her what she needed this one last time.

After today, her life would be very different. The world knew of her power. There would be wizards by the thousands who would kill for the chance to do to her what he was about to do. Maybe from among them she could find a wizard that could meet her needs emotionally as well as physically. Maybe.

He pulled the witch against him, and saw her need as well as felt it as she pressed her body against his. He'd play the lover one final time for her. He lowered his head and captured her lips, sucking on them gently before slipping his tongue into her mouth to battle with hers. He pulled her against his erection and ground against her, and she moaned into his mouth urgently as he ran his hands over her body, caressing her, fulfilling her need to be touched. Suddenly he saw visions of them at breakfast, then in the same bed at night, walking along a lakeside hand in hand, and he pulled out of her mind. Those were her wishes for them. Dreams that would never come true. He had to say something. It was the one decent thing he could do for her.

"Don't love me, Hermione," he whispered against her mouth. Hermione froze, pulling back from him.

"You can shag me, but you can't love me," he said, his eyes harsh. "I haven't changed since the first night I took you. You must understand that. It makes no sense to crave what you can never have. I am incapable of love, Hermione."

Hermione blinked up at him. Tears were forming in her eyes.

"I'll take what you can give me then, Severus," she replied, her arms tightening around him. The Potions Master sighed, and lifted her up, carrying her to the bed. He laid her down and hooked his fingers under her panties and slid them off of her, tossing them to the floor. Then he removed his boxers, his swollen member springing out and pointing at Hermione like a compass needle. Severus climbed on top of her quickly, lifting her legs to his shoulders and positioning himself at her wet entrance.

"I can only give you this, Hermione," he said, looking down at her as he slid his girth into her tightness. He didn't slam into her, but eased in, feeling her part around him, surrounding him in softness, heat and wetness. He groaned, his nostrils flaring as she moaned in pleasure. Her amber eyes locked to his.

"I want you closer," Hermione whispered. "Deeper. Make me remember you, Severus. I'm never going to find anyone else like you. I wish…I wish you could love me."

"Hermione," he breathed.

Enough of this ridiculous emotion. He had to drive it away. Severus pulled back and slammed into her as hard as he could. Hermione shrieked. He waited, then did it again, slipping his out of her almost completely then burying the full length inside her forcefully.

"Gods!" she screamed as he hit bottom. He began to increase his speed, stroking into her wetness, bouncing off her body, his muscles flexing, his buttocks clenching as he drove into her over and over, riding her hard, staring down at her face with his coal-black eyes, his hair swinging as he plunged in and out of her. He would remember her face always as it contorted with pain and lust and need and pleasure. She was saying words that he didn't want to hear and he drove into her harder, trying to take away her ability to speak.

"Shhh," he said to her as he rammed deep inside her, "Don't talk Hermione, just feel."

Her words turned into rhythmic cries as his pelvis slapped against her thighs loudly. He watched his himself piston in and out of her small body, his tool glistening with her juices, the scent of shared sex wafting upward, arousing him even more as he drove himself into her hot, tight sleeve over and over, a grimace of pleasure settling over his features as his body shifted into automatic. He couldn't stop taking her if he tried.

Hermione cried out repeatedly, her eyes locked on his face, her hands pressed against his chest, trying to memorize the look of him as he beat like a drum inside her, driving into her ache, her need and pounding out a growing sweetness underneath the pain of his possession. She would never have him like this again. The thought made her buck up against him, trying to take him deeper than she ever had, hoping he would go so deep he could feel her soul swallowing him down.

Snape rode the Primordial mercilessly, her body rocking beneath him, springing back into his thrusts, her juices squishing and gushing around him, covering his pelvis in wetness. He pressed into her as deeply as he could and rotated his hips, gyrating inside her causing her to choke on her scream as he gave her as much of himself as he could. He felt her tightening around bim and began to drive into her again, pounding into the growing vise of her body, feeling her rippling up and down the length of him as she let out a low keen that soon rose to a shriek as she burst around him, pulling him into her as she came, her release washing over him as her body clutched and sucked at his member. He groaned, struggling to hold on. He didn't want to stop yet. He pulled out of her and rolled her over, pulling the orgasmic witch to her knees and entering her quickly from behind. He had to push hard, she was so tight, still pulsing from her climax.

Snape gripped the headboard and used it for leverage as he took her from behind, plunging so deep it felt as if her were penetrating her belly. Hermione's head hit the headboard, hard, and she pulled herself up on the headboard too, both of them holding on, the entire bed shaking from the power of the Potions Master's ardor. She wanted to remember him…he would do his best to be unforgettable. Hermione was silent now, except for the harsh expellation of breath as he hit bottom repeatedly and a weak whimper when his thrust snapped something deep inside her, and she came again, his arms leaving the headboard to wrap tight around her waist, holding her steady as he drove up inside her brutally and her heat washed over him, bliss spreading throughout her body, as she fell back against him, her wet back sliding against his chest…and her power invoked itself, the stream rushing through her body and into the Potions Master, who howled as his pleasure intensified, the Primordial shuddering, pulsing around him and through him as he felt himself tighten.

The Potions Master gritted his teeth in an effort to hold himself on that delicious edge of impending release, stroking, plunging, ramming into Hermione for all he was worth until he finally burst, a flood of bliss rushing through him as he gasped Hermione's name, his essence pouring into the Primordial, carrying him along with his release, tumbling over and under as if caught in a riptide, spinning outward and meeting her, somewhere in the beyond and catching hold, blending again, two bodies, one soul, caught in the infinite moment of perfect union and hovering there in a radiant joy, then waning, splitting, falling back to earth, back to separation, back into their own selves.

Snape leaned heavily against Hermione's back, gasping as he returned, his face buried in her hair, feeling her quaking against him, his arms still wrapped around her waist, softening inside her. Exhausted, he rolled heavily to the side, falling into the bed, dragging her down with him, still holding her tight to his body. He waited until her breathing slowed and evened out before speaking.

"Do you think you will remember me, Hermione?" he asked her, his warm breath tickling her ear.

"Always, Professor," Hermione replied softly, trying to memorize the feeling of his arms around her.

"Then I've done what you've asked of me," he said, his voice heavy.

"Yes," Hermione agreed, feeling the heaviness of sleep washing over her.

They slumbered. The Potions Master didn't let her go.

When Hermione awoke in the morning, he was gone.

She started to fling her mind outward and locate him…then thought better of it. If he wanted her to know where he had gone, he would have told her. It was better this way.

Hermione sat up in the bed and stretched. She needed a shower, and she needed to get back to Hogwarts. She'd missed a lot of classes and had loads of work to make up if she wanted to keep top marks for graduation.

She doubted Snape would return to teaching. He hated it after all, and was only at Hogwarts because of the Dark Lord. He was free now. Free to pursue anything he wanted to pursue, with nothing and no one to hold him back. His only Master was himself.

Hermione rolled out of bed. She was a Primordial now. Life for her would be much, much different than it was. A whole new world was waiting for her.

She had no choice but to meet it.

THE END

* * *

**_A/N: Now, this isn't over. There are eight chapters of epilogue left PLUS an alternate ending involving a threesome with Severus, Lucius and Hermione. So keep reading. Please leave your thoughts. Thanks for reading._**


	15. Epilogue 1

**Inside the Blackest Heart Epilogue 1**

Hermione graduated Hogwarts with honors, as she was expected to. She had stepped down from the Head Girl position and all other leadership-oriented activities were tossed as well. For a little while she could breathe.

She and Ron had a huge row the moment she returned to Hogwarts, but after hanging from the ceiling rafters for half an hour, Ron decided Hermione had acted reasonably after all. Dumbledore was given a life sentence in Azkaban, and terribly mourned by the new Headmistress Minerva McGonagal.

Harry finally got his chance to live a normal life. He became an Auror, and Ron worked with his father at the Ministry. Hermione, however wasn't given a break. As a Primordial she was constantly getting requests to fix this or solve that. There were those who wanted to involve her in their own "take over the wizarding world schemes" and there had been several assassination attempts. They never got near her however. Her powers protected her whether she was conscious of danger or not. Then there were wizards trying to court her, but she could discern their motives and every one of them coveted her power.

After three years or so Hermione built herself a house on a hill, and together with Hansel and Gretel, the former elfin servants of Voldemort, lived a rather quiet life doing research on her own powers and publishing papers that the academic wizarding community just ate up. She made her money by giving lectures. She always filled the auditoriums to capacity, although most attendees were curiosity seekers. It paid quite well.

The Primordial was very lonely, and on occasion glamoured herself and tried to find release by picking up the odd wizard that seemed promising, but they were never what she needed. She ended up more frustrated than she was when she started.

Finally, she decided to take the logical route of finding a consort, similar to the thwarted deatheater lover approach. So she took out an ad in a popular single's magazine. She was too desperate to be embarrassed, and anyway most wizards would be honored to serve as her consort. Hermione did not want a constant companion however. She enjoyed her solitude and long ago pushed the idea of finding love out of her mind. She'd settle for a comfortable physical relationship. She just wanted a wizard available when she needed him, someone who would satisfy her, but not smother her.

Her ad read as follows:

**_Dark-natured wizard wanted as occasional Consort. Must be self-assured, independent, able to hold his own in any given situation. Must have smooth voice and strong male attributes. Apply in person at: The House on the Hill (tap for link) between the hours of ten am and three pm weekdays. Be prepared to interview and if necessary, perform._**

Hermione was really randy.

The Primordial had to transform her foyer into a waiting room. Hopeful wizards were filling it to overflowing, the line to get in to see her winding out the door and wrapping around the hill. Finally she designed a form for the wizards to fill out while waiting that helped her weed out the undesirables instantly. The form was self-evaluating, and if the wizard was unsuitable, it would proclaim "Unsuitable" and port key him to the last place he was before arriving at Hermione's home. He was blocked from further contact from that point on.

This thinned the line out significantly, for the form was quite in-depth. The ones deemed suitable were given an appointment to for Hermione to interview them. She was hooded during the interview so the wizards couldn't see her face. The ones who said they didn't care what she looked like were thrown out immediately for such an obvious lie. Not all the wizards were dark-natured either. She disposed of them as well.

Hansel stepped out into the waiting room.

"Number sixty-three," he squeaked. A wizard rose and walked toward the elf, who cringed.

"This way, sir," the elf said nervously, directing the wizard to Hermione's office.

"Please have a seat," Hermione said, not looking up as she shuffled through the papers of her last interviewee, and stuck them in the trashcan on the side of her desk.

Hermione looked up to see Lucius Malfoy seated in front of her.

"Lord Malfoy, what are you doing here?" she gasped.

"Why, answering your ad Miss Granger," he replied, smiling at her rather sexily, "I thought I might be significantly dark for your needs, and although I am no Potions Master, he and I share a similar background and certain traits that might appeal to you."

Hermione looked at Lucius. He was the complete opposite of Severus in features. Blonde haired, gray-eyed and broad-chested, but he did have a soft, sensual voice, and his eyes were piercing. There was a definitely feral hunger hidden behind them.

"But you're a married wizard," Hermione said in a low voice.

"Narcissa and I are both in your debt, Miss Granger for freeing us from the service of the Dark Lord My wife has no objections if I serve as your Consort. You do not require a full-time consort after all. Only one to …ah…meet your needs. I am quite certain I can do that, Miss Granger," he said, his eyes sweeping over her, "Why don't you lower your hood?"

Hermione lowered the hood, revealing her face. Lucius stared at her a moment.

"It would be quite easy to serve as your consort, Miss Granger. You are lovely. Not to mention curvaceous. I would enjoy pleasuring you," he said, his voice going a little hoarse.

"And you specified a dark-natured wizard. I understand what that means in relation to what you need, Miss Granger," Lucius said, his gray eyes narrowing slightly. "You will find I am quite thorough."

Hermione swallowed as she looked at the blonde wizard, who was meeting her gaze steadily. He certainly sounded like what the healer ordered. He was a former deatheater, so he definitely had a dark, dark nature.

Lucius was intimately familiar with Snape as a sexual animal. He had shared women with the Potions Master during the Revels after all, and knew the wizard's preferred method of taking a woman. He doubted that method had changed when he indulged the Primordial. Lucius was just as brutal and thorough as Snape was, and wanted the status that being Consort to the Primordial would bring him. Like Snape, he wasn't interested in her power. Serving under Voldemort all those years had taken the taste for another's power from him. He was quite content with what he had now, though he did like others to admire him. As Hermione's consort, he would get that admiration. He looked at the witch.

"I noticed your ad said 'be prepared to perform.' I would be more than happy to give you a sample of my abilities, Miss Granger," he said seductively, leaning forward, his gray eyes flashing her a challenge. "I'm sure it's been a while since you've had a satisfying experience, Primordial."

It had been. Hermione felt her belly tightening. It was getting hard to think. But she pulled it together.

"Lord Malfoy, I thank you for your offer but I still have other interviewees. I will keep you in mind when I make my final selections," she said, her amber eyes meeting his. Lucius could sense she was attracted to him, but hesitant. That was all right. He was a patient man. He rose.

"Very well, Miss Granger, " he said. Then he walked around her desk. Hermione swiveled in her chair to face him. He looked down at her for a moment, then bent and captured her lips between his in a quick, electric kiss. He pulled away, his face inches from hers as his gray eyes blazed into her amber ones.

"It makes no sense to continue to deny yourself, Miss Granger. You know I can meet your needs as well as Severus did. We are two sides of the same galleon," he said softly. Then he straightened and returned to his side of the desk and picked up his silver tipped cane.

"I hope to hear from you soon, Miss Granger. Good day," Lucius said, bowing and exiting her small makeshift office. He had a bit of spring to his walk. He had been seducing women for years, and he knew all the signs of a woman ripe for seduction. The Primordial exhibited all of them. He licked his lips. He had no doubt she would choose him. Her body would allow no other decision. Well, there was one wizard who could probably beat him out, but he was nowhere to be found.

Hermione stared after the dark wizard. He wasn't the Professor but perhaps he could be a reasonable facsimile. She put his application in the "possible" folder. He was the only possible she had so far. She sighed and called out to Hansel, who was standing outside her office door.

"Send in the next applicant, Hansel," she said.

"Yes, Miss," the elf replied, returning to the waiting room.

* * *

Relaxing naked and slightly tanned in a lounge chair on the patio of his secluded beach house, Severus Snape sighed contentedly, looking out over the water, his dark eyes reflecting the setting sun. Life had been good for him since the death of the Dark Lord and imprisonment of Albus Dumbledore. He marketed several of his original potions, and was receiving excellent residuals. He was a man of means now, comfortable and as close to happy as he had ever been in his life. He stroked his goatee absently as he watched the gulls wheel in the deepening sky.

Since he was well off, women were no problem. When in the mood for a warm body, he frequented the nicer, more upscale clubs in the area. Women flocked to him, witch and muggle alike, drawn by his dark, brooding nature as well as his coin. Being the sensualist he was, he took them home, shagged them and sent them on their way again, usually broken-hearted. But he was always honest with a woman beforehand about what he expected and what to expect from him. A relationship was completely out of the question. If a woman wasn't prepared to sleep with him, then she shouldn't waste his time or his money and this was the first thing she was told when she was seated. This approach was surprisingly effective for the Potions Master. Most of the women took this as a challenge and assumed that once he tasted their charms he would be hooked, but generally it worked the other way around, and after a few rather messy, tearful confrontations, he had taken to blindfolding women before bringing them to his abode, so they wouldn't be able to find their way back when he was finished with them. He rarely took the same woman twice if he could help it but pickings were getting rather slim now.

A voracious reader, Snape subscribed to all manner of magazines and newspapers to keep up with what was going on in the world. He still received his potions literature, and on occasion would read about Hermione's lectures. She was in the tabloids constantly. Her love life or lack of one was big news. He would laugh at some of the articles. Others made him thoughtful, such as the ones that caught her picking up wizards at clubs only to send them back in minutes, sometimes in various stages of undress.

In Playwizard magazine there was an interview with a man who claimed to have experienced the Primordial. He described her as cold, distant, and frigid in the sack, claiming her powers made her feel no man was worthy enough for her. Snape had snorted at this. She had accepted him, and he was one of the most unworthy wizards on earth. And the witch was as far from frigid as she could be. The wizard was obviously lying. Probably one she had rejected.

Another tabloid painted her as a broken-hearted, ruined young woman pining after a mysterious deatheater who took her virginity and her love, then dumped her. She had been so distraught that she built a house high on a hill and became a recluse, venturing out only to do the occasional lecture, before returning to her lonely existence, too broken to open up to another wizard. Snape highly doubted Hermione was pining away, even if she was alone. She was sure to be involved in something cerebral. He had read some of her papers on Primordial powers. They had been fascinating. And he hadn't dumped her. They would have had to be in a relationship for him to dump her. They hadn't been. He simply left to live his life, as she knew he would. At first, he was worried that she would come looking for him, but she didn't. She had understood he meant what he had said when he told her how he felt about her. She respected his wishes and didn't pursue him. It had been more than three years since he had laid eyes on the witch.

Idly, he waved his hands, igniting the torches that lined the patio. A stack of newly arrived magazines was piled on the table next to him. He picked up the stack and went through them. Hm. A single's magazine. It was free. Junk mail. He was about to toss it aside when he noticed in bold letters "Primordial Seeks Consort. See Page thirty-one for Details" His eyebrows rose. What the hell was Hermione up to now?

He quickly leafed through the magazine to the proper page, read the ad and burst out laughing. She was actually advertising to find a wizard to shag her. Gods. The witch was something else. He put the magazine aside and settled back on the lounge chair, staring up at the sky, watching the stars slowly wink in.

Taking out an ad in a single's magazine. Madness. Normally she was such a levelheaded witch. Plus, she was lovely enough she didn't need to advertise. Any wizard would be happy to oblige her. Snape thought about this then realized her status as a Primordial probably brought all kinds of predators to her door, and she probably grew tired of it and decided to just take the logical route of letting the wizards know what kind of man she was looking for, and selecting a consort that came as close to her needs as possible. Yes, that was the Hermione he knew. She would try to shift the odds in her favor as much as possible.

Snape picked up the magazine again and reread the ad. She had specified she wanted a wizard for an occasional consort. Obviously she was not looking for a constant companion or interested in romance. Dark-natured. Of course. She wanted a wizard that would dominate her in bed. He chuckled at "strong male attributes" requirement. That definitely meant a big tool. He wondered if she made the wizards show her their wares? His eyebrows rose when he read that the wizard should be prepared to "perform." Was shagging her part of the interview process? He didn't think so. He couldn't imagine the Primordial doing wizard after wizard in search of the perfect match. But then again, she may have changed since he had seen her last. Snape was getting more and more curious by the minute. The ad gave no address, just a link to tap. He presumed it transported the interested party to her home during the proper hours.

Maybe he'd pop in to the House on the Hill and see what it was all about. He had a lot of time on his hands, in fact he was a bit bored to be honest. Brewing potions, collecting residuals, lounging about, hitting the clubs and screwing gold diggers into conniptions for the past two and a half years had been fine, but maybe he needed something more. It couldn't hurt to see what was going on with the witch. He closed the magazine and looked at the cover again.

**_Primordial Seeks Consort._**

Hm.

Snape put the magazine down, swung his lean body out of the lounge chair and stretched. He put the torches out and entered the beach house.

"Blinky!" he called. A house elf appeared.

"Yes, Master?" the elf asked, bowing low. The creature didn't tremble. He wasn't afraid of Snape. Since the Potions Master was no longer under the thumb of despots, he was much mellower and didn't abuse his servant beyond yelling at him from time to time. But in the past, Snape had killed several house elves in a fit of temper. Having his freedom had changed the dark wizard somewhat. But he was still brutal as hell with women.

"I'm ready for dinner," he stated.

"Yes, sir," Blinky said, bowing.

Blinky was a former servant of Voldemort, who had been left masterless after the Dark Lord's demise. The elf was blind in one eye and walked with a limp due to mistreatment. He had wandered about looking for a new situation but no one wanted a damaged house elf. Snape had found him one night huddled in the corner of an alley and recognized him. He understood what it was like to be damaged and gruffly offered to be the creature's Master if just to keep him from being an eyesore in the streets of Knockturn Alley. Blinky was delighted, and fiercely loyal to the dark wizard that took him off the streets.

Blinky served Snape sweet and sour chicken with vegetables and mango juice, then retired to his cubby as the Potions Master ate alone, deep in thought. The elf would return later to clear the table. Snape wondered if Hermione had narrowed down her search and had any wizards in mind for possible consorts. It was likely some would be former deatheaters, since she had a preference for dark, brutal wizards. How would she choose between them? She would probably have some kind of test. Pit them against each other in some way. Hm. Maybe they had to arouse her.

Snape smirked at that. Maybe he should do more than look around. Maybe he should apply for the position and shock her knickers off, literally. He didn't think she would require faithfulness in an occasional consort. When he had been bedding her, she had actually witnessed him with other women. She never showed any jealousy. He hoped that was still true otherwise he needn't bother applying. He was always going to shag women, at least until he was too old to get it up.

Knowing the witch, she wouldn't accept him immediately, no matter how she felt She'd probably put him through the paces just like any other possible consort just to be vindictive. Then, when he won her, he could pay her back for her vindictiveness. He felt a little throb. The idea was becoming more and more appealing to him. He wouldn't mind doing her again. Climaxing with her was an intensely pleasurable experience when coupled with her powers. He hadn't experienced anything near it since the last night he was with her.

Snape chewed a piece of pineapple thoughtfully. Yes, he'd check out the House on the Hill tomorrow. He'd look around, check out the competition and decide then whether or not he'd apply. It would be interesting in any case.

* * *

Hermione woke up the next morning feeling exhausted. She had tossed and turned the whole night, dreaming very erotic dreams about one Lucius Malfoy Sr. The wizard had captured more than her imagination yesterday. He was handsome, sexy, and dark, though not as brooding as the Potions Master was. She was sure he knew what she wanted. Lucius had been pretty nasty in her second year, setting Ginny up to release the memory of Tom Riddle and releasing the basilisk on Hogwarts. But hell, he had been a deatheater. His behavior really wasn't that shocking. She remembered him as a bigot too, though he had no problem letting loose on muggles at the Dark Revels she was sure. It seemed he had moved past his bigotry, at least concerning her. She was a Primordial after all. She imagined that he wanted to be her consort because shagging the most powerful witch in the world would add to his image. Malfoy was all about image. She didn't have a problem with that, as long as he delivered. The quick kiss he had given her had shot through her and pooled directly between her thighs. She was definitely very strongly attracted to him, and actually had been tempted to take him up on his offer to "sample" his wares. But she didn't want to seem too ready, though gods knew she was.

Hermione had also taken a quick peek at his "male attributes" and he appeared to be quite adequate for her needs. She would take final applications today, then close up shop. Lucius Malfoy was the prime candidate for her consort. She thought the wizard could and would meet her needs. She believed Lucius was a bit older than the Professor, but appeared to be in excellent shape. Wizards didn't physically age as quickly as muggles, and Malfoy was still in his prime.

Hermione smirked. Draco would have conniptions if she chose his father. He still was a snooty, bigoted and spoiled snit, having never gone through what his father and mother did while serving Lord Voldemort. The idea of Draco frothing at the mouth was almost enough to make her shag his father out of spite. But spite would have nothing to do with it.

Hermione ate a quick breakfast, peeking out the window as she did so. The wizards were lining up outside, and she could see Gretel handing out the self-evaluating forms. Hermione doubted there would be anyone in the crowd that would appeal to her as much as Lucius, but one never knew.

* * *

Severus woke up bright and early the next morning, filled with anticipation. He took a quick shower, and dressed. He didn't wear robes very much anymore, and today put on a form fitting black t-shirt, black silk boxers, black Dockers, black socks and black loafers. He pulled his long, black hair back into a ponytail, and wrapped it with a black leather tie. He put his platinum necklace and his lucky kango cap. A pair of sunglasses topped him off. Hermione wouldn't recognize him until he told her his name or he removed his glasses and she could see his eyes. If he applied at all, that is. He was still up in the air about it.

He ate a light breakfast, then retrieved the single's magazine and with his finger, tapped the link. He was immediately transported to an immense iron gate. Beyond it he could see a rather nice three-story house on a hill. The tabloid hadn't lied. She did live in a house on a hill. He touched the gate and it opened automatically. It was probably charmed to allow applicants to enter. He walked through and headed for Hermione's dwelling.

As he drew closer, he saw a line of wizards, all busily scratching at a piece of parchment in their hands. A few were disappearing suddenly, the line moving up as their spaces were filled by the next in line. He reached the end of the line, trying to decide whether or not to join it, when a house elf suddenly appeared and shoved a parchment and a cheap quill into his hands, before winking out again. He looked at it.

Pre-evaluation Form

He smirked. Hermione was still a smart pastie. She was thinning the wizards out before they even got to her, narrowing down her choices to those most preferable. He looked over the form. There were some word association questions, and very personal questions about their sexual preferences, favorite positions, length and width of the penis, and physical condition. Color of eyes, hair, weight and height as well. There were a two questions, one of which was "Why do you want to be a consort?" and the other was more of an essay-type question "Describe how you arouse a woman."

Whoa. Hermione was taking no prisoners, was she? He peered over the shoulder of the wizard in front of him. He was rather short. In the height section, he wrote: "six feet". He disappeared immediately. Ooh. No lies on this form. Snape wondered if he could get past it. Wizards were disappearing at an alarming rate. He decided to go ahead and fill it out. He looked at the first word on the word association list. Roses.

He wrote "Blast" next to it.

The next word was Love. He thought a moment. "Unnecessary" was the word he associated with it. He paused, waiting to be sent back home. When nothing happened, he continued. The next word was Sex. He wrote "Primordial" next to that one, and waited again. No, he was still in the running. He filled out the rest of the word association questions successfully.

Next, he filled out his physical description. For favorite position he wrote, "Any position that makes a woman scream until she's hoarse." For the "why do you want to be a consort?" he answered "Because I want to fuck the shit out of a Primordial on call." And on the "describe how you arouse a woman" part he wrote, "I let her know I intend to take her, grab her, strip her and pin her down. You know the rest."

Well, he was still in line, and quite close to the door now. Over three quarters of the wizards who were in line had been transported away. The self-evaluation form grew warm in his hands, then a stamp appeared on it. It read "Suitable". Snape chuckled and shook his head. Hermione was still a masochist. The other wizards were probably not so direct, and it cost them. They had probably thought Hermione was the flowers and roses type, even though she specified she wanted a wizard of a dark nature. The minute they got mushy, they were out.

He was at the door now. He looked down to see a house elf holding out his hand for the form. Snape recognized the elf. It was Hansel. He didn't acknowledge him, however. Hansel handed him a ticket and gestured toward the rows of seats. Snape walked over and sat in the second row. There weren't many wizards waiting. He looked at his ticket. He was number twenty-six. There was a little charmed chalkboard that refreshed itself with a new number as Hermione completed her interview. It read number nineteen. He made himself comfortable and watched as Hansel closed the door and carried in the few forms he had collected. Outside, wizards grumbled. Apparently Hermione was going to take a little break after completing the next few interviews.

Snape was contemplating how to approach the Primordial once she recognized him. He thought it would be best to be aggressive. That had always made her wet. Plus answering those questions the way he did and seeing his answers were accepted made him want to bed the twisted little witch again even more. She still wanted what he offered. He looked up at the board. Number twenty-three already. He looked around. There were two more wizards after him. One had a crazed look about him. His blue eyes were dilated, his mouth twisted in a kind of leering smirk. She wanted dark, not crazy. He gave the wizard ten seconds in her presence.

"Number twenty-six!" Hansel called out. Snape stood up and walked over to the elf.

"Follow me, sir," Hansel said, walking up the hall and stopping in front of an open door on the left.

Snape entered. There she was, a hood pulled over her head, shifting through the papers on her desk. She looked up at him quickly before returning to the parchments, locating his form.

"Please have a seat," she said in a business-like manner. Snape sat down and looked at her as she read over his form, her mouth dropping open. She looked up at him.

"You're certainly direct, Mr…" she said, her eyes slightly narrowed. The forms did not have a place for names. Introductions were made during the interview.

Snape removed his glasses, his black eyes glinting, his mouth turning up in a smirk.

"Snape," he replied silkily, "Mr. Severus Snape."

Hermione gasped.

"Professor?" she said, lowering her hood, her eyes wide with disbelief.

Snape nodded. "In the flesh. But it's not Professor any more. I no longer teach dunderheads for a living. You can call me Severus now, Hermione," he said smoothly.

Hermione looked down at his application and up at him again.

"Y-you're applying to be my consort?" she asked a bit stupidly. She was thrown for a real loop. He looked so different. But those eyes, they were still the same. Dark and drawing her in.

"Obviously, Hermione, or I wouldn't be here," he replied a little snarkily. It was the Professor all right.

She stared at him. Gods, it had been so long. But the way her stomach was twisting, it was obvious his particular type of magic still affected her. But after three years without a word, to just walk in here…

Hermione forced herself to calm down. Snape's black eyes swept over her. She was as lovely as ever, and she still was attracted to him. This ought to be easy.

Hermione took a deep breath, and forced herself back into her business persona.

"All right, Severus," she said, feeling awkward at saying his given name after all this time. :I see what you have written down here as to why you would like to be my consort, but I would like to hear more," she said. "Convince me you can handle this."

What she really wanted to know was what had changed that he would be willing to have a relationship with her.

"To be honest, it was the terms that attracted me, Hermione. You state you want an occasional consort. That implies that you are not looking for an actual relationship, simply a wizard that could meet your very special needs when they arise. That suits me. There seem to be no complications involved. I imagine that your consort would be free to have other partners?"

"Yes, he would as long as he was careful not to catch any wizarding STD's," she replied.

"Then you know I'm your wizard, Hermione," he said, his eyes starting to go hot. "I've already proven I can satisfy you. More than satisfy you. In fact…" Snape leaned closer and dropped his voice. "Why don't I close the door, ward the room and give you a quick refresher? I know it's probably been a long time since you've come the way I can make you come. Would you like that?"

Hermione looked at him, her belly starting to heat up. He was seducing her. Her eyes must have betrayed her, because Snape started to rise.

"No!" she said suddenly, louder than she intended. The Potions Master sat back down.

"Ah, no Severus, I don't think so," she said, fighting the growing ache she was feeling. He still made her feel hot all over.

"I can see it in your eyes, Hermione. Why do you always tease yourself?" he asked her softly.

"I'm not teasing myself. I have another consort in mind, is all. I will have to decide between you," she said.

"What?" Severus said, scowling. "You know what I can do for you. Who could possibly compete with that…whom would you consider over me?" Snape asked angrily. What the hell was this game she was playing? He felt like yanking her over the desk and reminding her why she was attracted to him in a very brutal way.

"Lucius Malfoy. He applied yesterday. He was quite…appealing," Hermione replied.

Shit. Lucius. Yes, he was definitely competition. The blonde wizard could probably satisfy the Primordial. Snape was familiar with the pureblood's sexual nature. He loved to pummel women as much as Snape did. Damn.

"But you have no way of knowing he can satisfy you the way I can," Snape said.

"That's true. But he kissed me, and I wanted more. I think that's a pretty good sign," Hermione replied. "Plus he's as dark as you are. He was a deatheater too. He said he knows what I need, and that he could give it to me as good as you could. That you both are two sides of the same galleon. I believe him."

Snape felt a tightening in his belly that he shouldn't have. He hadn't seen the witch in years. Why should he care if she chose Lucius Malfoy? Because he didn't like to lose, that's why.

"He's married," Snape said shortly.

"His wife doesn't mind. He said they are both in my debt for freeing them from Voldemort. As a deatheater's wife she is probably used to him being with other women anyway. I wouldn't take up all his time at any rate. I would only see him when I needed him," Hermione replied, looking at the dark wizard in front of her a bit strangely. He seemed upset she was considering the pureblood. But still, the Professor would make the perfect consort as well. She felt a bit torn.

"I tell you what. I'll put you in the "Possible Consort" file and contact you later in the month, along with Lucius and any other wizard I am considering. I will bring you all together, give you a chance to convince me and make my final decision," she said to the Potions Master, slipping his parchment into the referred to file.

Snape was speechless. She really was going to make him compete for her. Damn it. Why had he thought this would be easy? The witch was infuriating. He thought he saw a bit of amusement in her amber eyes and his temper flared. He stood up and practically ran around her desk, yanking her from the chair and pulling her hard against his body. She could have melted from the contact. He was as lean and hard as she remembered. And he was aroused. He wanted her. His black eyes blazed down at her as he pressed into her, feeling her shuddering slightly.

"Fine, Hermione. I will participate in your little game of choice," he snarled, "But you WILL choose me, and when you do, I am going to pummel you so hard for putting me through this, you're going to need all your Primordial powers to recover from the beating!"

He pushed her roughly back into her chair, snapped his sunglasses back on his face and stalked from the room. If he had been wearing robes, they would have billowed wildly as he departed.

Hermione was gasping, her entire body tingling. She had forgotten how violent he could get, and how much it turned her on. Trying to calm herself, she called Hansel.

"Yes, Miss?" Hansel said, appearing at the door.

"Send the rest of the wizards away. I've found my two finalists," she said.

"Yes, Miss," Hansel said, bowing. He walked back into the waiting room.

Hermione heard angry voices and groans of protest over Hansel's squeaky voice. It sounded as if it were going to get nasty. Hermione concentrated. The waiting room went silent.

Hansel walked back to the office door.

"Thank you, Miss. They were getting ugly," Hansel said.

"No problem, Hansel," she replied distractedly.

"So, you believe you've found a consort, Miss?" the elf inquired. It would be good for her to have a wizard in her bed when she needed him. She was a good witch and a good boss. He would like to see her happy.

"Well, I have two wizards I am considering, Hansel. Both are quite appealing, and I have to choose between them. I don't really have an idea how to do that," she said, looking down at the elf.

"You'll figure out something, Miss. You are the smartest witch of the age after all, " the elf encouraged.

"And the randiest," Hermione thought as she thought of Lucius and Severus. Gods…what a choice she had to make. Both were dark and absolutely delicious. Severus seemed the more dangerous of the two, but Lucius had his element of danger as well, just better controlled.

Shit. She needed a cold shower.

* * *

Snape was in a black mood and tempted to revert to his old ways. He considered returning to the Primordial's house under cover of night, gaining access, creeping into her bedroom and ravishing her thoroughly. Sure, it was a dangerous idea, she was a Primordial after all, but she hadn't used her powers on him when he grabbed her. Possibly the magic that protected her allowed him access because of their tumultuous relationship in the past. It recognized she accepted him despite his violent nature. Then he thought about it. He probably wouldn't even be able to locate her house. She most certainly made it unplottable. And if he could find it, she probably had excellent security. He doubted if she employed anything as horrible as, say, barkless weredogs, but you never knew. No, going back wasn't the answer.

She had responded to him when he pulled her body against his. She was just as soft and curvaceous as he remembered. She looked much more mature physically as well, the innocence gone from her eyes. He should have taken her on her desk with the door wide open. Everyone would have seen who her consort was then. He paced the patio, scowling.

Lucius Malfoy. Damn it! Lucius could shag for hours. Well, maybe not hours but the wizard was long lasting and well endowed. If he got his wand into the Primordial, he could replace him. Snape was feeling extremely territorial about Hermione right now. His testosterone levels were soaring. The way he was reacting one would think the Primordial had the only bit of trim in the world. It was one thing not to engage her because he decided to move on with his life, it was another thing not to engage her because she preferred someone else. A totally unfair attitude to have on his part, but there it was.

Hm. Maybe he could make Lucius withdraw his application. They were friends after all, in a distant kind of way. It might be worth a try.

* * *

Lucius and his wife Narcissa were in the study, enjoying a quiet evening. Narcissa was leafing through the latest Witch Weekly, and Lucius was sipping on his third brandy, and cutting his eyes over at his wife's long legs and thinking he'd like to have them wrapped around his neck. He and Narcissa's relationship was a strong one, but open. They both took lovers on occasion, but they were merely amusements and not a threat to their marriage at all. They had rules however, the main being never to embarrass one another with their affairs. So they were discreet and made sure never to run into each other while with a paramour. They also never brought lovers into their home or their marriage bed.

Lucius came home from Hermione's and informed Narcissa that he stood a very good chance of becoming the Primordial's consort. Narcissa was delighted. She followed the tabloids and thought it sad the young woman who had removed Voldemort from power had no one to keep her "well-oiled" as she put it. She knew her husband would make sure the Primordial was well satisfied. He was good at that type of thing. Plus the status it would bring him would be wonderful. He would be the envy of all wizards. The witches might gripe about it, but they didn't understand her and her husband's relationship. A happy Lucius meant a very happy Narcissa. He was never more generous than when he was on top. He lavished her with gifts and jewels, and was very, very satisfying between the sheets.

In fact, she was looking forward to a very nice night with him tonight, in lieu of his good news. She saw him looking at her legs over his brandy and knew he was imagining them wrapped around some part of his body. It wouldn't be long before he'd sidle over to her and suggest they retire. As soon as she thought it, he rose from the armchair in front of the fire with that familiar glint in his eyes. Heat started pooling between her legs immediately.

"Narcissa…" he began when a house elf suddenly winked in. Lucius looked at it with irritation.

"What is it?" he snapped. The house elf bowed apologetically.

"You has a visitor, sir. A Mr. Snape, sir," the elf said.

Severus Snape? He hadn't seen Severus since they were all at Voldemort's fortress and he told Harry Potter to release him. Well, well. What could bring him here?

"Show him in," Lucius commanded.

Narcissa looked very interested. Severus and her had several very hot encounters in the past, with Lucius' knowledge of course. Next to her husband, the Potions Master had been the best shag she ever had.

"Did he say Severus Snape, my dear?" she inquired of her husband.

"Yes, my dear," Lucius said, looking down at her. He could see the hint of excitement in her eyes. Well, he'd make sure that later that glint would be all for him.

The house elf showed Snape in.

"Severus!" Lucius exclaimed, "It's been years. Welcome to Malfoy Manor," Lucius said jovially as he walked over and shook his hand. He gestured to his wife.

"Of course, you remember Narcissa," he said, grinning slightly as his wife approached. Snape took her hand and kissed it.

"Of course. How are you Narcissa?" he asked politely, his black eyes sweeping over her tall, thin form.

"I've been fine, Severus. Especially since the demise of the Dark Lord. Thank you for the part you played in that. It's good to be free," she said graciously.

"It certainly is," Snape agreed.

"Come sit, Severus," Lucius said, offering him a chair, which the Potions Master took.

Narcissa sat in the chair next to him and Lucius sat in one directly across from him. Narcissa took in Snape's appearance. He looked good. His skin had lost its pallor and had healthy color to it. His goatee was quite appealing. He looked trim and fit, his black hair drawn back in a ponytail. And he was in muggle clothing that fit him quite nicely. He looked delicious.

"I don't know what you've been doing, Severus, but it certainly seems to agree with you," she commented, smiling at him.

"What have you been doing, Severus? I haven't seen you in years," Lucius said, bursting with curiosity.

Snape told him about the marketing of his potions and living a quiet, successful life.

"How wonderful for you," Narcissa said, "It's marvelous you were able to start again and be successful at it."

"Yes," Snape agreed, wondering how to broach the subject of Hermione with Narcissa present. Lucius noticed his tenseness.

"Severus, as glad as I am to see you, you have never been a wizard to make an appearance simply for the sake of dropping by. There is a reason you are here, is there not?"

Snape looked at Narcissa first, then at Lucius.

"Um…yes. There is a matter I would like to discuss with you…of a rather sensitive nature," he began. Lucius understood.

"Narcissa, my dear, would you mind leaving us alone?" Lucius asked his wife.

"Not at all," she replied, rising.

"I'll be in the bedroom," she said, flashing her legs at him a bit. Lucius leered at her.

"Goodbye, Severus, it was nice to see you again," she said, her blue eye flashing hotly at him. Lucius caught it however. She'd pay for that little indiscretion.

"Goodbye, Narcissa," Snape said, giving her a slight smile. Narcissa was a minx. He had taken her several times at her request, but she wasn't his type physically. She was built like a muggle model, too tall and thin for his liking. It didn't stop him from driving her repeatedly into the headboard however. He turned his black eyes to Lucius.

"Okay Severus, what is it you would like to discuss with me?" Lucius asked, rising and pouring both of them a brandy. He handed one to Snape and returned to his seat. Snape took a sip and smacked his lips appreciatively before speaking.

"It's about the Primordial," he said, "I would like to ask you to withdraw your application, Lucius."

The blonde wizard raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Don't tell me you've applied to be her consort, Severus? You had that opportunity years ago and walked away from it," he replied, taking a sip of his drink.

"I needed to start over, Lucius. I had things to accomplish. The witch was too young and too emotional to be involved with. It would have been messy. I am not a wizard to be tied to one woman, you know that. Her needs are now more in line with my own, and I would like to service her," Snape replied.

"So I take it she has decided to put you through the application process, rather than immediately accept your return and let you bed her," Lucius said smirking a little. That must have miffed the Potions Master to no end..

"Yes," Severus said, scowling, "It seems there is another she is seriously considering as a consort. I am sure you know who that is, Lucius."

The blonde wizard grinned at him broadly.

"Yes. I made quite an impression on her yesterday when I applied. I daresay she considered letting me possess her right in her office. I might have too, if she didn't have other interviews to conduct," he said. "She's quite the luscious little thing. I look forward to taking her. She seems so wound up I bet she explodes when she orgasms."

Snape leaned forward, his brow furrowed.

"Lucius. I want her. We have a history together," Snape said earnestly, "What can I offer you to make you withdraw your application?"

Lucius studied the wizard. This was the first time he had ever heard Snape express an interest in a woman in this manner. He shook his head slowly.

"I'm sorry, Severus. There is nothing you can offer me. Being the Primordial's consort is an honor that has much status associated with it. You know I am a status whore. I will not withdraw my application. Plus, I am looking forward to bedding her. She appears to have a need for roughness, which I am more than willing to fulfill. My Narcissa is quite delicate…I can only go so far with her. Now that the days of the Revels are over, it would be nice to be able to slake my own tastes for brutality with a witch who actually wants it."

Snape sighed.

"Well, it seems she has narrowed her choices down between you and I, Lucius. She plans to have us come together and each try to convince her to accept one of us as her consort. Possibly make us compete for her in some way."

"Do you have any idea how she intends to choose between us?" Lucius asked him thoughtfully.

"No," Snape said, his brow furrowed.

Lucius looked at the Potions Master. His rival now.

"Severus, we have never had a problem concerning a woman before. When we saw one we liked, we either took turns or shared her. Who's to say the Primordial can't have two consorts? Possibly we can convince her to accept both of us. Have a little variety in her life. A bit of spice. A choice of dark meat or light as it were," Lucius said, grinning evilly.

Snape looked at the wizard. A slow smile split his face.

"Lucius," he said, "You are fucking brilliant!"

"I have my moments," Lucius said, leaning back in the armchair and sipping his brandy. "Now, my dear Severus, let us put our heads together."

The Potions Master grinned. Miss Primordial had a choice to make all right. But it wasn't the one she was envisioning.

* * *

A/N: More yummy epilogue to come. Thanks for reading. 


	16. Epilogue 2

**Inside the Blackest Heart Epilogue 2**

Hermione was having a difficult time of it. One might have thought she had to choose between fifty wizards instead of two the way she was agonizing over this. She felt Lucius was like a velvet tiger, all smooth purr and control until the doors closed and his claws came out. And Severus was like a dark dragon, all fire and burn, aching to rend, tear and consume. Both wizards excited her, and she went through several dreams a night about each of them, each dream increasingly erotic but not bringing her release. As a result of this unresolved sexual tension, the Primordial was feeling increasingly frustrated, and this frustration was affecting her day-to-day life. Hermione was constantly on knife's edge, unable to concentrate, short-tempered and becoming more so as each day passed. Even Hansel and Gretel avoided her now and stayed in their cubby most of the day, coming out only to serve Hermione meals.

"The Miss needs a consort now," Gretel said to Hansel one morning as they cleaned up a broken plate Hermione had thrown across the room because her scrambled eggs were cold. She could have easily reheated them with her powers, but she just wasn't able to think.

Hansel nodded solemnly.

"Maybe you could talk to her Hansel. She listens to you. Tell her to call the wizards in and make a decision before she destroys the entire house," Gretel said, "Otherwise you and I will have to look for other jobs."

"Me? She might turn me into a flubberworm the way her temper is," Hansel replied, his ears pressed flat to his head in terror. "You're female. You do it."

"Let's just both do it," Gretel said.

Hansel nodded.

"All right," he said his ears still flat against his head, "At least we can die together that way."

Gretel scowled at him but said nothing. Hermione was unpredictable lately. She really needed release.

The elves waited until Hermione went into the study to work on her research paper. The witch sat at her desk, a piece of parchment in front of her, and a quill in one hand. With the other hand, she was rifling through notes, scowling and muttering to herself.

"I can't even write a coherent sentence," she griped frowning at the empty page in front of her. Not only was she having trouble notating her research, she had to cancel a lecture this past week, because she couldn't stay focused on the topic.

"Miss?" a timid squeaky voice called.

Hermione looked around.

"Gretel, where are you?" Hermione called back.

"Over here, Miss," the elf's voice said. Hermione looked around a bit more and saw the Gretel peeking out from behind the armchair near the door. Hansel peeked out from behind her, his ears flattened.

"Why are you hiding?" Hermione asked, putting her quill down.

Hansel answered.

"We weren't sure what kind of mood you were in, Miss. You've been a bit on edge lately. We wouldn't want you getting angry at us, Miss" he said.

Hermione looked at the elves hiding behind the armchair and felt horrible.

"Come out. I won't get angry," she said softly, "I'm sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me lately."

"We do, Miss," Gretel offered.

The elves slowly approached her and stopped in front of her desk, standing very close together.

"What, Gretel?" she asked.

"You need to get a consort, Miss. You've been alone too long, and are tense. You need to mate," the elf said, her ears flattening as she did so. She hoped she hadn't angered the Primordial.

"I've been alone a long time, Gretel. I never acted like this before," Hermione retorted a little sharper than she meant to. Gretel cringed a little.

"Yes, Miss. But you didn't have the wizard you wanted. Now you have two you want. It is easy to be alone when you have no one. But not so easy when you have someone available to you and you want him," Gretel said wisely.

What the elf said was true. Hermione had two men anxious to relieve her, and hadn't acted on it. As a result she was tormented every night by dreams, and almost unable to get anything done during the day. She needed to call Lucius and Severus in, make her choice and get laid.

"But it is so hard to choose, Gretel," Hermione said.

"Call them in. They will help you choose," Hansel said, feeling braver now that Gretel had broken the ice. "You need a consort, Miss, very badly. You won't get anything done until this is settled."

The elves were right. Hermione had to contact the two wizards. It had been two weeks since Severus had threatened her so deliciously. She could use some of his punishment right now. Warmth spread all through her at the thought.

The elves looked at each other when Hermione's eyes went half-lidded. They weren't as attuned to her emotions as bound elves were, but they got the gist of it.

Hansel went and retrieved Hermione's owl, Fezziwig.

Hermione looked at the owl and shook her head.

"No, Hansel. I can contact them faster and more directly," Hermione said. She concentrated.

* * *

Snape was in his potions lab working on a new brew when suddenly an image of Hermione was standing next to him. He almost dropped the vial he was holding. The image looked at him.

"Mr. Severus Snape, your presence is requested at the House of the Hill at seven pm tonight. Be prepared by that time. You will be transported to your destination," Image-Hermione said. Then it faded.

The Potions Master blinked several times at the empty spot where the image had stood. He smirked to himself. He'd be ready. Very ready.

* * *

Lucius was in the process of wrapping Narcissa's long legs around his neck when the image of Hermione appeared in his bedroom, startling them both. Fortunately, the image couldn't see either of them. It was just a projection of Hermione's message.

"Lord Lucius Malfoy, your presence is requested at the House on the Hill at seven pm tonight. Be prepared by that time. You will be transported to your destination," the image said, then faded away.

Lucius looked down at Narcissa, who said, "I think you'd better save your strength and ardor, husband. The Primordial summons you. And if the tabloids are telling the truth about her, it has been a long, long time since she's had a man."

Lucius kissed his wife and rolled off of her.

"It has been long. I could see it in her eyes, Narcissa," he said, sitting up on the edge of the bed. "Only her modesty kept her from letting me take her in her office," he said.

"Well, let us hope she loses her modesty quickly then. It will only get in the way of her enjoying herself," Narcissa replied.

"I don't think modesty will be a problem, wife. Need can supersede it. The Primordial has quite a choice to make tonight, " he said obliquely. Something in his voice made Narcissa sit up in the bed.

"Lucius Malfoy, what are you up to? I heard that note in your voice," she said, burning up with curiosity. Lucius had the most twisted plans at times. He half-turned to face her.

"I can't tell you, wife. It might affect the outcome. You know I'm superstitious," he drawled, giving her a twisted, wicked little smile.

"I know you are a manipulative bastard. You have something planned for that young witch, don't you? Something delicious," she pressed, trying to get details out of him. She rubbed his back, tracing his scars with her nails lightly. He too had felt the lash while in Voldemort's service.

"You're not going to get any details out of me until I find out if the plan works, or fails," he said arching his back a little, and wincing as she scratched him for denying her.

"You'll pay for that later," he growled.

"Promise?" she purred, licking the bit of blood caught under her nail as Lucius watched her. Minx.

"Be sure of it," he said, rising before he gave in to his urge to ravish her.

Narcissa lay back down in the bed and watched her husband dress with appreciative eyes. He was a beautiful man. Devastatingly handsome, broad chested, muscular, and well endowed. He could have posed for the cover of romance novels as the hero or villain. She preferred villain.

The Primordial would be very pleased with him.

* * *

At six fifty-nine Severus stood on his patio, waiting to be transported. He wore his trademark black robes over a pair of black silk boxers and black loafers. No socks His black hair was pulled back in a ponytail. Lucius would be dressed similarly. He watched the clock on the wall of his kitchen. The moment the minute hand clicked over to twelve, he was gone.

Lucius Malfoy stood in his study. Narcissa had gone out for the evening to find her own entertainment since he didn't expect to return tonight. He was dressed in a dark blue robe, dark blue boxers and dark blue loafers. He too was watching the clock on the wall, waiting to be transported to the House on the Hill. When the hand clicked over, he too was gone.

* * *

Hermione was a nervous wreck. All day her stomach had been flipping over in anticipation of seeing the two wizards again. She still didn't have any idea how to choose between them, and decided to let each of them attempt to convince her in turn by telling her why he was most suitable consort. She would choose the one who moved her most and let him take her. Tonight. She was tired of dreams.

Hermione had dressed in a simple white dress with straps, white flats and pinned her long chestnut hair up with a white hair clip. She looked pristine, but the nervous, hungry glow present in her amber eyes brought her up short of virginal. She was perspiring slightly, and her skin held a slight sheen. She had set up three comfortable armchairs in her study. Two of them faced a single chair, the one she would occupy as she spoke to the wizards and made her choice. There was a large bottle of wine, glasses, napkins and a selection of finger foods on a small table to the right.

She kept checking the clock, amazed at how fast the time was passing. Soon it was almost time to transport Severus and Lucius, and her heart seemed to clinch in her chest as the hour arrived. There was no turning back now. She closed her eyes and willed the wizards to her.

When she opened them, both wizards stood before her, their eyes locked to hers, looking sober yet hungry at the same time. They were similarly dressed, but in different colored robes. Severus looked more like she remembered him, except for the ponytail and goatee. Lucius looked handsome as always, his gray eyes glinting into hers hotly.

"Good evening, Primordial," both wizards said in unison.

"Good evening, gentlemen," Hermione replied, fervently hoping they didn't hear the slight quaver in her voice.

But they did.

* * *

"Please, have a seat," Hermione said, gesturing towards the two armchairs. As the wizards seated themselves, the witch gestured toward the table holding the wine and food.

"You're both welcome to have some wine, or something to eat," Hermione said.

Lucius and Snape leveled their eyes at her in a way that made her insides feel like jelly. Gods, they were both just so…sexual. There was no other word she could think of to describe them as they sat there, all coiled and looking ready to spring.

"Ah…no thank you, Primordial," Lucius said in a low voice, "My current hunger does not run towards food this evening. Something much more delicious has me, I mean my stomach, growling." He let his eyes sweep over her slowly, pausing at her thighs. Hermione blushed bright red.

"Well, it's there if you change your mind, Lucius," Hermione said, sitting down.

Her eyes shifted to Snape, who was sitting, staring at her with blatant, angry lust, his black eyes holding that same hot, hard look they held when he was plunging in and out of her. He'd like nothing better than to rip her dress off of her and pin her down in the armchair she was sitting in and ride her until she broke apart. His eyes told her this in no uncertain manner. She looked away from him, down at her hands for a moment, trying to hold back the fire spreading through her lower belly. How was she going to get through this? All right. She had to address them.

"Gentlemen, we all know why you are here. Out of all the applicants I received and interviewed, I have narrowed the candidates for my consort down to you two since you both have the traits and apparent talents I require in an occasional companion. I will not require my consort to dwell with me, or even to spend too much time with me. Basically, he will come to me when I am in need of physical satiation, or to put it bluntly, desire sex. We will have no actual claim on each other, and are free to pursue other pleasures or relationships outside of this one, as long as we are careful not to contract any STD's. Do I make myself clear about this, gentlemen?"

Both wizards nodded and looked at her attentively.

"Although I am not against romantic gestures, this won't be a true romance in that it is a mutual sharing of pleasures. However, I wish to be treated as more than someone to bed. When my consort comes to me, I expect him to act and treat me like an attentive lover, and take his time with me. I expect him to make me feel wanted and beautiful, not as if I am a chore," she said.

"I doubt that taking you would ever be a chore, Primordial," Lucius said softly.

Hermione swallowed and gave him a small smile. She continued.

"I also expect stellar performances. I have very…powerful needs, and I need a powerful lover to sate those needs."

She knew Snape knew what she needed in bed, but she wanted to be sure Lucius knew for sure. The blonde wizard was powerfully built beneath his robes, no doubt he could deliver. At this statement, Lucius and Snape cut their eyes at each other. Hermione caught the shared look, and it made her feel a bit uncomfortable. But she made herself continue, wanting to be absolutely sure the wizards knew what she required.

"I will try to give several days notice when I wish to see my consort. However, I may request to see him on the same day, depending on my needs. I believe in the beginning it will be quite…frequently," Hermione said, flushing a bit, "then will probably taper off as we settle into our roles. Would that be a problem for you, Lord Malfoy?"

Lucius smiled at her. "Not at all, Primordial. It would be my pleasure to help you "catch up" on your missed nights of pleasure," he replied smoothly.

"For the most part, you will probably not be required to spend the entire night with me, though I might request it from time to time. A bed can be lonely sometimes. Do either of you have a problem with that," she asked.

"As long as you make your desire clear beforehand, I have no problem with staying overnight with you, Primordial," Snape said silkily, his black eyes glittering. "Do you plan to actually sleep on these occasions?"

Hermione blushed again. Why did she keep blushing, damn it?

"Yes, though I imagine that will depend on my consort. I don't want to have to request sex. I expect my consort to be aggressive and confident, as well as demanding. To act like a man acts when he desires a woman," she replied to the Potions Master.

"I do demanding very well," drawled Lucius, his eyes sweeping her body again, "I must say, Primordial, that your candid descriptions of what you want is making me hard as diamond. I suggest you get to the part about choosing one of us. You are in very real danger of having that choice taken from you at this rate. I can barely remain seated as it is."

Hermione felt a rush of wetness between her legs, so sudden that she shifted in the armchair. Her eyes went half-lidded for a quick moment, and both wizards were quite aware of her arousal. Snape was having a difficult time remaining seated as well. He knew all the signs of her wanting to be taken. Hurry up and spring it on her Lucius.

"All right, Lucius," Hermione said, her voice breaking. She cleared her throat to cover that quaver of need. "Tell me why you believe I should choose you as a consort over Severus."

Hermione sat back in the armchair as Lucius took a long, measuring look at the Potions Master. He turned his gray eyes back to her, slightly narrowed.

"I don't believe you should choose me over Severus, Primordial," he stated.

Hermione was flabbergasted, and a bit disappointed. Did Lucius change his mind about wanting to be her consort?

"Are you withdrawing your application, Lucius?" she asked. Her disappointment was evident in her voice. She knew she had to make a choice between them, but she didn't want the wizard to drop out.

"Not at all," he purred, "I am simply saying I don't think I should be chosen over Severus."

Hermione looked confused.

"Nor do I think, Hermione, that I should be chosen over Lucius. We both can give you what you need, and both desire you greatly. What we are saying is we want you to accept both of us. Have two consorts instead of one," Snape said smoothly, his black eyes watching her face intently.

Hermione blanched.

"Two consorts? Take both of you as lovers? I couldn't!" she gasped, even though inwardly her body was reacting to the idea. Having two sexy, dark wizards at her beck and call. Gods…it was too kinky.

"Why not? Men often have more than one woman they call on. We are not chauvinistic, Primordial. You have a right to have more than one lover if you wish. Snape and I have a history of sharing women. I think you would be very satisfied with such an arrangement. You could have your choice of either of us…"

Here Lucius' eyes narrowed lustfully,

"…or let both of us pleasure you…together."

Hermione almost passed out at the thought of experiencing the two wizards at the same time. . She was going into overload. She began to shake, noticeably. And it wasn't from fear. Her body wanted something that her mind was desperately fighting. Two wizards at once? Two very passionate, brutal wizards at that? Her masochistic streak was writhing inside her, screaming to be heard. What would it be like to submit to the lusts of both men? Gods, it was so wrong…so twisted, but so appealing to her darker nature.

"No." she forced herself to say. "It wouldn't be right."

"By the way your body is shaking, Primordial, I think you are far past the concerns of what's right. What you need seems to be what is important at this moment. And you need a good fucking," he said, "Wouldn't you agree, Severus?"

"Yessss," the Potions Master hissed, his black eyes locked to the trembling witch. Hermione would probably orgasm the minute either of them touched her, she was so wound up.

"We both know what you want. All you have to do is let us give it to you," Lucius said in a low, persuasive voice, "It would be double your pleasure, Primordial."

"And if you don't agree to accept both of us, Hermione," Snape said in an equally low voice, tinged with harshness, "We will both withdraw our applications, and your search for a consort will have to begin again."

Hermione gasped at this. The bastards! They planned this whole thing.

"Are you blackmailing me?" she asked, enraged

"Indubitably," Lucius replied grinning at her. Snape nodded, a smirk on his face.

She'd show them.

"You should both know better than to fuck with a Primordial," she snarled, her face contorted in anger. She was going to bounce them off the walls for their audacity.

Both wizards went pale. Shit. This wasn't the reaction they had hoped for.

Hermione concentrated.

Nothing happened.

She looked at them in surprise, then closed her eyes and concentrated again.

Still nothing. Her powers wouldn't work for her in this situation. She was too emotional.

The wizards waited to be blasted into pieces. When nothing happened, they stared at the Primordial, then looked at each other, realization dawning on them. When they turned their eyes back on Hermione, both sets were predatory.

"It seems your powers are on our side, Primordial. If what we wanted to do to you were meant to harm or hurt you in any way, your powers would have manifested. You should accept your inability to punish us as a testament to the rightness of our idea," Lucius said, leaning forward now as he looked at the rather confused witch.

Hermione's amber eyes shifted between the two wizards. She was still shaking. Her powers had bailed on her. They wouldn't let her hurt the wizards.

"So what will it be, Hermione? Will you accept us both, or do we leave you here alone, hot, bothered and needing relief?" Snape asked, now sitting on the edge of his seat, "Between us, we'll make you come so much, you'll think you've sprung a leak."

Hermione's shudders intensified. She was in a quandary. She didn't want to spend another night craving the wizards, or go through the application process again. But she was desperately trying to hold on to her ideas of what was proper, while her body was screaming for her to just capitulate and let what was going to happen, happen.

Snape could smell her arousal now. He was ready to just take her. So was Lucius.

The blonde wizard looked at her.

"I see this is difficult for you, Primordial. You've never experienced two wizards before. How about we try to convince you that it will feel right? You could tell us to stop whenever you like," Lucius said softly.

Snape looked at Lucius, thinking if Hermione gave him permission to start, he had no intentions on stopping until he had the witch impaled and shuddering release on the end of his tool. And probably not even then. This was the difference between he and Lucius. In situations outside of the Revels, Lucius preferred to seduce a woman, then brutalize her. Snape acted on a woman's body language. If he saw her body was saying yes, he'd take her despite her protestations. Hermione's body was screaming yes at full volume.

"Speak for yourself, Lucius. If she says yes, I'm not going to stop until I've shagged the shit out of her," the Potions Master growled. "Look at her. She needs it."

"Patience, Severus," Lucius said, eyeing the dark wizard.

Snape stood there a minute, locking eyes with the wizard. Then he exploded.

"Fuck patience, Lucius! I've dealt with her before. I know what she needs. If we wait for her to say yes, we'll be standing here until sunrise," he said.

The Potions Master jumped up from his chair, strode over to where Hermione was seated and looked down at her. The witch's amber eyes were fixed on him. She couldn't even speak she was so torn.

"This is just like the first time I had you, Hermione. I had to take away the choice. You didn't regret it then, you won't regret it now," he breathed. Then he yanked her up from the chair and pulled her tight against his body. Hermione groaned and molded herself to him, trembling.. The Potions Master looked at Lucius.

"You see? She's ready, Lucius…for both of us," he said, his black eyes hot.

Lucius looked at the witch.

"She seems ready for you, Snape…but I'd like to see if she is indeed ready for me as well," he said walking over to the pair and pulling Hermione away from Snape.

He pulled the gasping witch toward him, and lowered his mouth to hers, kissing her deeply. His mouth was warm, his tongue hungry as he tasted the Primordial. She began to respond to him. He pulled her against him, grinding his erection into her belly. She gasped in his mouth. He pulled back from her, and his gray eyes searched her face intently. Hermione tried to move back in, her body longing for contact. She had lost the battle.

Lucius looked at the Potions Master.

"You're right. She is very ready and beyond protesting," he said, sweeping Hermione up in his arms. "I take it we've been accepted. Where's her bedroom?"

"I don't know," Snape growled, looking at the witch in Lucius' arms hungrily, "But we'll damn well find it."

* * *

The two wizards walked through the house, pushing open door after door searching for Hermione's room. They found bedrooms but the beds were only full-sized. Lucius paused now and then to kiss the witch in his arms, much to Snape's annoyance.

"Lucius, damn it, will you come on!" he snarled at him.

The blonde wizard stopped kissing Hermione, whose arms were laced tightly around his neck, and looked at the irate Potions Master.

"I want to keep her heated up, Severus," he said, looking down into Hermione's dilated amber eyes. She looked so ready for more. He was going to enjoy this. Snape scowled at him.

"If she gets any more heated she's going to burst into flames," Snape retorted, "Give her here. I'll carry her." He approached the wizard with his arms outstretched.

"No," Lucius said, scowling at him and turning away with the witch.

Snape looked murderous.

"Lucius, you are really trying my patience," Snape said, frowning at the wizard.

"What patience? You have no idea how to approach this situation at all, Severus. Have some style, some flair, for gods sakes. She isn't a plaything at a Revel. She's a Primordial."

Snape's fists curled at his sides, and he began stalking back up the hall. He was tempted to hit the blonde wizard, and that simply would not do, especially with Hermione in his arms. The Potions Master pushed open another door and found a large bedroom with a king-sized bed. It looked like a guest room but it would do.

"Bring her in here," he said to Lucius, "There's a bed."

Lucius followed him in, looked around and set Hermione gently on the floor.

She looked around somewhat dazedly.

"This isn't my bedroom," she said softly.

"It doesn't matter," Snape said, grabbing her and pulling her to him roughly. He claimed her mouth, not about to let Lucius outdo him. He slid his hands down her back and over her buttocks, pulling her against his erection, and rolling it against her as he wrestled with her tongue. Hermione moved against his hard, lean body.

"Severus, it's been so long," she gasped against his mouth.

"It won't be much longer," he growled. "I've got something good and hard for you."

Suddenly the witch was pulled from his arms. Seething, he watched as Lucius claimed her mouth again, in a much gentler, though equally consuming kiss, his large hands exploring the witch's body. He moved from her mouth, over her chin and down to her throat. Hermione was gasping, arching against the wizard as his mouth moved over her flesh.

Severus scowled, and began unfastening his robes, watching as Lucius lowered one strap of her dress, then the other, slowly sliding it down over her breasts, his lips nibbling at every bit of revealed skin.

"Yessss," Hermione hissed. Snape felt as if he would explode as he heard the desire in her voice. He shrugged out of his robes, and stood poised to pounce in his tented silk boxers.

Lucius had both Hermione's breasts exposed, and stepped back, sliding his hands around her fullness and squeezing watching her face as it contorted with pleasure. Suddenly another set of hands appeared, sliding across her belly. Snape had approached her from behind, pressing himself against her, dropping his head and locking his mouth to her throat, sliding her dress lower as he ground himself against her from behind. Lucius let the witch go, and began unbuttoning his own robes, watching Snape caressing and undressing the witch the rest of the way.

The feel of the Potions Master hands on her body, his warm mouth sucking her throat and his hardness rubbing against her buttocks was sending Hermione into meltdown. Through half-lidded eyes she watched Lucius remove his robes, revealed a muscular torso, washboard belly and tented silk boxers.

"Oh gods," she breathed as she watched him approach her.

Her dress was pooled around her ankles now, and all she wore was a pair of sheer white panties. Lucius kneeled and slid them down over her hips and legs. She lifted her feet so he could remove them. Then the wizard removed her flats, examining her feet.

"You have beautiful feet, Primordial," he breathed. The blonde wizard began kissing her legs as the Potions Master massaged her breasts, tweaking her nipples while licking and sucking her neck.

"This isn't so bad, is it Hermione?" he whispered in her ear. "It feels good, doesn't it?"

"Yes," she breathed as Lucius planted kisses on her thighs, his large hands running over her hips. The wizard pressed his face against her bush, and inhaled.

"Gods, she smells good, Severus," he said to the other wizard.

"Trust me, she tastes like honey," Snape replied.

Lucius slid a finger into Hermione's moistness, and she cried out, bucking against Snape wildly as Lucius' finger flicked over her clit. The blonde wizard drew his finger back and tasted her juices. A look of pleasure lit up his face.

"Damn," he said, looking up at the witch. "Hold her, Severus."

The Potions Master slipped his arms under Hermione's and up around her shoulders, holding her in a loose full nelson.

"What, what are you…" Hermione gasped. Lucius lifted her legs, resting her thighs on his shoulders, opening her to him as Snape held the witch back against his chest. Lucius then lifted her thighs higher with his hands and dove into her wet center with his tongue. Hermione buckled and cried out with pleasure. Snape held her steady as she writhed under Lucius' hungry, licking, tasting muscle.

"Oh, fuck!" Hermione cried out as Lucius slid two fingers inside her, thrusting them in and out as he sucked on her clit. Hermione's entire body tensed up then stretched out, forcing Snape back for a moment, but Lucius had her pinned below, and didn't miss a lick or stroke. He nibbled, licked and sucked under Hermione was a shuddering mass of nerves on the edge of exploding. She was babbling incoherently, thrusting her hips against Lucius' mouth and fingers as Snape held on to her bucking body. He pressed his mouth against the Primordial's ear, licking it with his tongue and encouraging her to let go so he could hurry up and have at her.

Suddenly the Primordial drew up her legs, and Lucius felt her tighten around his fingers. He quickly pulled them out of her and licked them before plunging his tongue as deep inside her as he could go, twisted and rolling it inside her as she screamed and orgasmed strongly, her eyes rolling back in her head, her body pushing hard against Snape's.

"Yes!" Lucius breathed against her core, and he began to drink her in, sucking at her as her thighs tightened around his head. She was absolutely delicious, and the blonde wizard was in heaven as he swallowed her sweetness down, his lips glistening with her release, getting off on her whimpers. His member was so swollen it was painful, and he was ready to take her. As her pulsing eased, Lucius rose, still holding her thighs apart and before Snape realized what he was doing, the wizard pulled his boxers down, rammed himself deep into the witch and started stroking her violently. Hermione started shrieking as the blonde wizard plunged into her wildly, pulling her into him with each thrust. She was tighter than Narcissa, and the feel of her wet, soft sleeve around his aching erection was pure heaven. He closed his eyes and slammed into the Primordial with abandon, groaning and grimacing with pleasure.

Snape suddenly yanked the Primordial back, pulling her away from the panting, groaning wizard. Lucius' shining, swollen organ popped out of her, the head purple and hungry.

"What the fuck are you doing, Severus?" he yelled at the Potions Master. They had the witch stretched between them, and she was twisting, wanting Lucius back inside her, desiring that sweet pain he was giving her.

"It's my turn," the Potions Master growled, trying to wrest Hermione away from him. Lucius held on.

"But I already started," Lucius growled back, aching to continue. Hermione was moaning with disappointment. She dimly realized the two wizards were arguing over her. This was not the way it was supposed to be.

"Please, Severus," she moaned at the dark wizard, "Let him keep going. It was so good."

"Shut up," Snape snarled down at her, "You have nothing to do with this!"

Yes, Snape was losing it.

He yanked Hermione again, stretching her even further. Lucius still wouldn't let her go. Fine. This was about to get very ugly.

Snape loosened his grip and lowered Hermione gently to the floor. Now her shoulders rested on the ground and her hips were up in the air, in front of Lucius. The wizard started to enter her against when he was hit with a blast and thrown back, Snape deftly grabbing Hermione around her waist, so she wasn't dragged with him. Snape had stunned Lucius wandlessly. The wizard was out cold.

Snape shifted Hermione's body so she was in his arms and strode toward the bed with her.

"Nobody's going to beat my time," he growled, throwing her in the bed roughly and climbing on top of her.

* * *

Snape wrestled his boxers off and stared down at Hermione, his black eyes hard.

"So, you didn't want Lucius to stop, eh? He was good, right?" he growled, pulling her legs up over his shoulders and raising himself up on his arms. He rubbed his thickness against her core hard, running his shaft up and down her nub, making her gasp and cry out, her eyes blazing with need.

"Severus! I just need…" she gasped.

"Don't you think I know what you need, Hermione? I was the first man to have you. And I'm better than Lucius is…"

He positioned himself at her entrance and drove into the witch with all his might. Hermione convulsed and screamed. The Potions Master started stroking her, pulling his hips high in the air and slamming his full length inside her, biting his lip against the pleasure of her tightness as he slid through her, her soft walls gripping his burning organ, soothing his need for her as he plunged into her, throwing all his weight into every penetration of her body, his black eyes locked to her face which was contorted in pleasure/pain as she cried out under him, her body jerking powerfully with every brutal thrust.

"I'm what you need, Primordial. Me. Alone," he panted, "I'm worth five fucking consorts."

He drove deep into her and rotated his pelvis in circles, pulling at her, rolling inside her, forcing her hips to follow his motions. Hermione whimpered as he viciously ground into her, claiming every part of her…gods she had missed him, his intensity, his power, and his darkness. And now, there was something new, possessiveness. He didn't want to share her. He didn't want Lucius to have her. He began to plunge into her again with abandon, faster now, burrowing deep inside her, groaning, the delicious slide and ending shock of his penetration building a sweetness inside the Primordial that was only made sweeter by this new revelation

Suddenly Snape stopped and rolled off of her, sitting up in the bed and sliding back, reclining against the headboard and pulling her onto his lap. He raised his knees slightly and lifting her body easily he slid her back on to his member, hissing as he watched his thickness slide between her thighs. He pumped into her, sliding her forward and back by her hips, his eyes sweeping over her body as he possessed her.

"Turn around," he hissed, "straddle me on your knees, Hermione."

The Primordial did so, and began to ride him. Snape let her go and watched her ride him, groaning as she slammed herself down on him, making herself cry out. Yes, she liked pain all right. Snape brushed her hair off her back, and smoothed his hands up over her shoulders and down her soft skin, caressing her as she slid her tightness over him, wetting his loins with her lubrication.

"You not only like me shagging you, you like shagging me," he said, grasping her shoulders and pulling her down hard as he bucked up into her sharply, causing her to shriek as he shifted her cervix.

"Yes," he whispered, thrusting into her faster before he stopped and lifted her off him, rising to his knees and turning her around, positioning himself behind her.

"Head to the mattress, Primordial," he breathed, pushing her head down so her bum was in the air. He place one hand on her lower back, and used the other to guide himself into her. He grasped her buttocks and pulled her body over him as he thrust into her, his pelvis slapping against her buttocks loudly as he plunged deeper and deeper, faster and faster. Sweat streamed down his back as he worked the witch over, making her scream his name repeatedly

"You still think Lucius is better? That's not Lucius' name you're screaming. It's mine," he said, slamming into her and making her body buck beneath his hands. She didn't answer him. She couldn't, she was too lost in his possession to give a coherent answer though she heard him. She only knew she didn't want him to stop, ever. The familiar bubble was growing again, and she needed him to burst it, to release the bliss it contained.

Behind the couple, Lucius roused and woke, his head spinning as he heard the Primordial repeatedly crying out. He looked up and saw the Potions Master in full stroke, tearing into the witch brutally. By the tremulous cries he heard, she loved it. He hardened instantly, and he was furious. The dirty bastard had stunned him and took the Primordial for himself. So, he didn't want to share her after all.

Lucius rose to his feet and looked over at his discarded robe which was next to the bed. His wand was in it, and if he went for it, Snape would see him and realize he had regained consciousness. Lucius was at a disadvantage. He couldn't do wandless magic. The blonde wizard watched his fellow deatheater take the Primordial, trying to decide how to get the upper hand. Snape wouldn't hesitate to blast him again. He thought about it. He was naked and had no weapon…or did he?

Lucius reached into his hair and unwound the leather thong he used to tie back his blonde hair. It was strong enough to choke the Potions Master with. He wouldn't kill him, but he could cut off his air and make him pass out. He wrapped the ends of the thong securely around both of his hands and made tight fists to secure it. The Potions Master was throwing himself into the woman. He had driven Hermione almost completely down to the mattress and was straight-legged, holding himself above her as if in a push up position and driving into her mercilessly, sliding her body up the bed with the force of his penetration. Snape was covered in perspiration from head to toe, some of it dripping on to the Primordial's body beneath him.

Lucius looked at Snape's soaked, dripping body distastefully. He'd be covered in the dark wizard's sweat, but if that's what he had to do to get his shot at the Primordial, then there was no help for it. But he had to wait for the wizard to change position again. Which happened shortly, when he got on his knees and pulled the Primordial up on all fours, grasping her by the shoulders and slamming himself into her, his muscled buttocks clenching as he drove as deep as he could. A fresh round of shrieking began. Lucius had to hand it to the Potions Master. He could fuck.

Lucius crept up behind the pumping wizard, then with one swift move, reached over his head and dropped the thong down, pulling it tight around his neck and yanking Snape away from Hermione and back to the end of the bed, falling to his knees as the Potions Master's head hung over the edge. Snape's hands wrapped desperately in Lucius' hair, and groped at his face as the wizard cut off his air supply. Hermione was too far-gone to react, her mind still lost to passion. Snape was slowly losing consciousness. The room was growing dim.

The Potions Master's arm dropped low off the edge of the bed, his hand brushing Lucius' thigh. The blonde wizard twisted the thong tighter, willing the wizard to pass out. Dimly, Snape realized his hand was close enough to…

Lucius let out a wrenching scream as the Potions Master's hand grasped him by the balls and Snape squeezed with every bit of strength left to him. Lucius released the thong, ripping at Snape's hand and its iron hold on him. He managed to tear himself away from the Potions Master, who rolled over clutching his throat and gasping, as Lucius fell to the floor on his ass, cupping his aching gonads.

Hermione had turned over on her back and was now cognizant enough to know what just happened as the two wizards lay gasping, Snape attempting to rise from the bed and Lucius struggling to stand up, each trying to recover first and continue the fight. They had miscalculated. They were no longer under the Dark Lord, and this indeed was not a Revel. Outside of that dour environment the two wizards could not share a woman they both wanted. Hermione realized they could never both be her consorts. Severus was not willing to share her.

As far as the Primordial could tell, Lucius could have killed Severus, even if that wasn't his intention. As exciting and handsome as the pureblood was, this galled her. She was not pleased.

Snape managed to roll to his feet just as Lucius straightened. The two naked wizards glared at each other, Severus still rubbing at the thin red line around his throat and Lucius rubbing his balls. Both had murder in their eyes.

"Hold it," Hermione said, crawling to the edge of the bed. Both wizards looked at her.

"I've made my decision. Severus will be my consort. Lucius, I'm sorry, but having two of you wouldn't work out. The rivalry is horrible," she said.

"But you haven't given me a chance," Lucius said, a note of pleading in his voice. He had only had a taste of her and really wanted more, if just once. He looked at Snape.

"Severus…our agreement," he said, "we're supposed to stick together on this. We can work it out."

Snape scowled at him.

"You must be out of your fucking mind," he spat, still rubbing his neck, "you tried to strangle me when I was doing her!"

"Well you blasted me when I was about to take her!" the blonde wizard retorted.

"That's because you went for a two-fer," Snape replied, "It was my turn."

"But…but I was right there, Severus…" Lucius said, defending his actions.

Hermione watched the two wizards argue back and forth a little while before she concentrated and sent Lucius on his way in his altogether.

The wizard arrived naked in his study, in the exact same spot he was transported from, his clothing appearing neatly on the floor next to him, startling Draco, who was sitting in front of the fireplace examining the centerfold of this month's Playwizard magazine.

"Father! What on earth…" Draco began, looking at his nude and slightly bent sire with shocked blue eyes.

"Don't ask," Lucius replied, bending slowly, picking up his clothing and slowly walking towards his bedroom, still massaging his aching balls. So much for status and notoriety. A shame though. He really would have liked to have had the chance to finish Hermione off.

* * *

A/N: More to come. Thanks for reading. 


	17. Final Epilogue

**Inside the Blackest Heart Final Epilogue (Followed by Alternative Ending)**

Severus blinked at the empty spot where Lucius was just arguing with him moments before, then turned to face Hermione, who was sitting on the edge of the bed looking up at him. Her eyes were still heated. He hadn't completed his job yet. Still rubbing his neck, he sat down on the bed next to her. Hermione looked at the red line around the Potions Masters throat.

"That looks like it smarts," she said.

"It does," Snape agreed.

Hermione reached up and ran her finger around the red line. It disappeared, and Snape sighed with relief, then looked at her, his black eyes hungry.

"Thank you," he said, rising off the bed and getting on his knees on the floor, positioning himself between her thighs and pulling her forward slightly.

"You were jealous of Lucius," she observed, her amber eyes looking at him intently as he concentrated on positioning himself to enter her again. He looked up at her.

"I simply decided you only needed one consort," he said, "Don't make more of that than what it is."

Hermione smirked at him.

"You didn't give him a chance to do me," she continued.

Snape scowled at her.

"I said, Hermione, that I decided you only needed one consort. And he did do you, out of turn I might add." Snape said, sliding into her slowly as she gasped. They faced each other, the Potions Master embedded deep inside the Primordial, connected but not moving.

"Do you still want him? You are not bound to me. If you asked him to come to you, he would," Snape said, his eyes hard. "I couldn't stop you."

He pulled back and thrust into her, making her gasp.

"But if you did call him, that would negate the purpose of having a consort," he added.

He thrust into her again, pulling her to him roughly and making her cry out as he hit bottom, his black eyes locked to her face. He studied how she looked when he made her ache, surprised, hungry, needy. Beautiful.

"So you aren't jealous of me?" she asked him, bearing down on him, squeezing his length inside her so he hissed. Severus looked at her, and decided to tell her how he honestly felt.

"Hermione, I am not jealous of you in the way men are jealous of the women they care about. My jealousy is more in the nature of you being my territory and my reward. I am the one who woke your powers when I took your virginity. I am the one who saved you from Dumbledore when he would have killed you. I am the one who arranged for your protection by the Dark Lord. I have been punished for you. In my opinion, I deserve to be the only one who possesses you because of the service I have rendered you."

Hermione squeezed him again, causing him to grunt and jerk inside her. He scowled and held her firmly so he could finish what he had to say to her. Now that he was her consort, he didn't want any misunderstandings between them. He continued.

"I risked my life for you in the process of working toward my own ends. The fact is, you wouldn't be here if not for me. It is my right to take my pleasure of you, and my right alone. The status seeking Lucius Malfoys of this world can go fuck themselves. If I had my way, no other wizard would ever be able to boast that the most powerful witch in the world submitted to him. I don't need to boast about bedding you. It is a personal pleasure and satisfaction. After all, I've earned you."

His voice softened a bit.

"I don't plan to make any changes in my life. I enjoy women. I like the hunt, and I like variety. Most likely I will continue to plow through them for the rest of my life. It is my nature and I will be true to it. But I assure you, Hermione, that you will be the only woman I will return to time after time until such time as you no longer want me for a consort."

Hermione looked at the Potion Master's frank and sincere expression. No, it wasn't a declaration of love, or even care, but it did suggest he felt a bond with her that he felt with no other woman. She thought she could live with that. He couldn't give her anything more.

Hermione shifted her body forward, impaling the Potion Master deeper inside her. She wrapped her arms loosely around his neck, her fingers playing in his silky hair

"Very well, Consort…less talking, more thrusting. You have a job to do, after all," she said, her amber eyes soft.

Snape's nostrils flared, and his black eyes burned hungrily into hers. He tightened his grip on her waist.

"As you wish, Primordial."

FIN

* * *

**_A/N: Next the Alternative Ending. This is only for those who would have liked to see a threesome between Hermione, Severus and Lucius. This part was written because of the request of many readers. Have to give the people what they want. Thank you so much for reading._**


	18. The Alternative Ending

**Inside the Blackest Heart Alternative Ending**

The two wizards walked through the house, pushing open door after door searching for Hermione's room. They found bedrooms but the beds were only full-sized. Lucius paused now and then to kiss the witch in his arms, much to Snape's annoyance.

"Lucius, damn it, will you come on!" he snarled at him.

The blonde wizard stopped kissing Hermione, whose arms were laced tightly around his neck, and looked at the irate Potions Master.

"I want to keep her heated up, Severus," he said, looking down into Hermione's dilated amber eyes. She looked so ready for more. He was going to enjoy this. Snape scowled at him.

"If she gets any more heated she's going to burst into flames," Snape retorted, "Give her here. I'll carry her." He approached the wizard with his arms outstretched.

"No," Lucius said, scowling at him and turning away with the witch.

Snape looked murderous.

"Lucius, you are really trying my patience," Snape said, frowning at the wizard.

"What patience? You have no idea how to approach this situation at all, Severus. Have some style, some flair, for gods sakes. She isn't a plaything at a Revel. She's a Primordial."

Snape's fists curled at his sides, and he began stalking back up the hall. He was tempted to hit the blonde wizard, and that simply would not do, especially with Hermione in his arms. The Potions Master pushed open another door and found a large bedroom with a king-sized bed. It looked like a guest room but it would do.

"Bring her in here," he said to Lucius, "There's a bed."

Lucius followed him in, looked around and set Hermione gently on the floor.

She looked around somewhat dazedly.

"This isn't my bedroom," she said softly.

"It doesn't matter," Snape said, grabbing her and pulling her to him roughly. He claimed her mouth, not about to let Lucius outdo him. He slid his hands down her back and over her buttocks, pulling her against his erection, and rolling it against her as he wrestled with her tongue. Hermione moved against his hard, lean body.

"Severus, it's been so long," she gasped against his mouth.

"It won't be much longer," he growled. "I've got something good and hard for you."

Suddenly the witch was pulled from his arms. Seething, he watched as Lucius claimed her mouth again, in a much gentler, though equally consuming kiss, his large hands exploring the witch's body. He moved from her mouth, over her chin and down to her throat. Hermione was gasping, arching against the wizard as his mouth moved over her flesh.

Severus scowled, and began unfastening his robes, watching as Lucius lowered one strap of her dress, then the other, slowly sliding it down over her breasts, his lips nibbling at every bit of revealed skin.

"Yessss," Hermione hissed. Snape felt as if he would explode as he heard the desire in her voice. He shrugged out of his robes, and stood poised to pounce in his tented silk boxers.

Lucius had both Hermione's breasts exposed, and stepped back, sliding his hands around her fullness and squeezing watching her face as it contorted with pleasure. Suddenly another set of hands appeared, sliding across her belly. Snape had approached her from behind, pressing himself against her, dropping his head and locking his mouth to her throat, sliding her dress lower as he ground himself against her from behind. Lucius let the witch go, and began unbuttoning his own robes, watching Snape caressing and undressing the witch the rest of the way.

The feel of the Potions Master hands on her body, his warm mouth sucking her throat and his hardness rubbing against her buttocks was sending Hermione into meltdown. Through half-lidded eyes she watched Lucius remove his robes, revealed a muscular torso, washboard belly and tented silk boxers.

"Oh gods," she breathed as she watched him approach her.

Her dress was pooled around her ankles now, and all she wore was a pair of sheer white panties. Lucius kneeled and slid them down over her hips and legs. She lifted her feet so he could remove them. Then the wizard removed her flats, examining her feet.

"You have beautiful feet, Primordial," he breathed. The blonde wizard began kissing her legs as the Potions Master massaged her breasts, tweaking her nipples while licking and sucking her neck.

"This isn't so bad, is it Hermione?" he whispered in her ear. "It feels good, doesn't it?"

"Yes," she breathed as Lucius planted kisses on her thighs, his large hands running over her hips. The wizard pressed his face against her bush, and inhaled.

"Gods, she smells good, Severus," he said to the other wizard.

"Trust me, she tastes like honey," Snape replied.

Lucius slid a finger into Hermione's moistness, and she cried out, bucking against Snape wildly as Lucius' finger flicked over her nub. The blonde wizard drew his finger back and tasted her juices. A look of pleasure lit up his face.

"Damn," he said, looking up at the witch. "Hold her, Severus."

The Potions Master slipped his arms under Hermione's and up around her shoulders, holding her in a loose full nelson.

"What, what are you…" Hermione gasped. Lucius lifted her legs, resting her thighs on his shoulders, opening her to him as Snape held the witch back against his chest. Lucius then lifted her thighs higher with his hands and dove into her wet center with his tongue. Hermione buckled and cried out with pleasure. Snape held her steady as she writhed under Lucius' hungry, licking, tasting muscle.

"Oh, fuck!" Hermione cried out as Lucius slid two fingers inside her, thrusting them in and out as he sucked on her nub. Hermione's entire body tensed up then stretched out, forcing Snape back for a moment, but Lucius had her pinned below, and didn't miss a lick or stroke. He nibbled, licked and sucked under Hermione was a shuddering mass of nerves on the edge of exploding. She was babbling incoherently, thrusting her hips against Lucius' mouth and fingers as Snape held on to her bucking body. He pressed his mouth against the Primordial's ear, licking it with his tongue and encouraging her to let go so he could hurry up and take her.

Suddenly the Primordial drew up her legs, and Lucius felt her tighten around his fingers. He quickly pulled them out of her and licked them before plunging his tongue as deep inside her as he could go, twisted and rolling it inside her as she screamed and orgasmed strongly, her eyes rolling back in her head, her body pushing hard against Snape's.

"Yes!" Lucius breathed against her core, and he began to drink her in, sucking at her as her thighs tightened around his head. She was absolutely delicious, and the blonde wizard was in heaven as he swallowed her sweetness down, his lips glistening with her release, getting off on her whimpers. His member was so swollen it was painful, and he was ready to possess her. As her pulsing eased, Lucius rose, still holding her thighs apart and before Snape realized what he was doing, the wizard pulled his boxers down, slammed deep into the witch and started stroking her violently. Hermione started shrieking as the blonde wizard plunged into her wildly, pulling her into him with each thrust. She was tighter than Narcissa, and the feel of her wet, soft sleeve around his aching member was pure heaven. He closed his eyes and slammed into the Primordial with abandon, groaning and grimacing with pleasure.

At first, Snape was tempted to pull the witch away from the rutting wizard. After all, Lucius had already taken first pleasure of her, nibbling her sweet core until she orgasmed and drinking her juices down. Snape felt it should be his turn now, he hadn't touched the Primordial in over three years. But as he watched Lucius' lustfully ram his glistening organ into the shrieking witch over and over, it was obvious Hermione was loving it. Her need had been denied her too long. To pull him away from her now would be cruel, and probably cause a fight between the wizards. And he didn't want to fight, he wanted to shag. He could share the Primordial.

Hermione screamed shrilly and flexed her body powerfully as Lucius pulled back and gave her a series of particularly vicious strokes, and Severus almost lost his balance. He struggled forward and hoisted the bouncing witch's body higher and firmer against his chest, tightening his hold on her, bracing one foot behind him. He placed his face next to her ear and encouraged Lucius so she could hear him.

"Fuck her, Lucius!" he intoned in her ear, while egging the wizard on. "Bust an new hole in her…that's how she likes it…isn't that right Hermione?" The Potions Master said, licking her ear slowly.

"Oh gods" Hermione shrieked, her body going hot and stiffening, before she orgasmed again, calling out Snape's name in a ragged scream, rather than the blonde wizard's. Lucius didn't care as the Primordial's sleeve gripped him so tightly he howled from the pressure.

"Fuck, she's got good trim!" he groaned, forcing himself through her pulsing tightness, his face contorting with pleasure as her thick, hot juices washed over him. Severus' own thick organ throbbed as he saw the look of bliss on Lucius' face. He had to have her.

"Come on Lucius. Let's carry her to the bed and change up. You can take her mouth, I need some relief right now," he said, rubbing his erection against the gasping witch's back.

Lucius began to back up with the witch toward the bed, still stroking her as Snape followed. It wasn't smooth transference, with Hermione's body jerking wildly back and forth in the Potion Master's arms, and Lucius stopping every couple of seconds to bend his knees and ram up inside her at differing angles, causing interesting variations in her cries, which were weakening. Finally they got her to the bed. Lucius pulled out, his gray eyes still hot as he helped Snape position her in the bed. Hermione was far gone, her sexual need spiraling out of control. Lucius had broken through all the months of need admirably and taken away all inhibition, and the Primordial arched and writhed in the bed, anxious for more male contact, her amber eyes turned hotly on the two wizards. There was no inkling of control in the amber orbs at all. The thinking, rational part of the Primordial had indeed left the building.

"Damn," Lucius breathed, looking down on the beautiful witch as she undulated sensually on the bed, rubbing her own hands over her body and between her legs. He looked at Snape with a bit of awe.

"You handled THIS by yourself? She looks like she could survive a Revel and still want more!" Lucius said, shaking his head.

Snape was removing his boxers, climbing into the bed, and trying to get a grip on the slippery witch, who was covered perspiration, her thighs slippery with come and the juices of her continued arousal.

"Yes," Snape breathed as he managed to grab hold of the slick Primordial, "but when I was doing her, I kept her maintained. She didn't go a long time without being properly shagged."

He managed to flip Hermione over to her stomach, licking her juices off of his fingers before pulling her bum up into the air and positioning himself at her entrance.

"What you see here is a product of neglect," the Potions Master finished with a grunt, ramming his tool deep into Hermione and smirking with satisfaction as she cried out hoarsely.

Severus began to drive into the Primordial's body brutally, his hands on her buttocks, spreading her cheeks wide, his black eyes watching his huge girth bury itself into her pretty, pink core. Streaks of creamy lubrication covered his shaft as he poled into her tightness, her sharp cries following each punishing stroke. Snape closed his eyes in pleasure as she slid deliciously around him, her soft walls familiar but new to him now. Snape reacquainted himself thoroughly, pulling her towards him roughly and arching into her, his buttocks clenching powerfully.

Lucius watched Snape take the Primordial, stroking his own swollen member as he did so. He watched the deatheater with interest. He had rarely seen Severus more brutal with a woman. Not even at the Revels. It was as if he were more focused on punishing her than possessing her. Snape had a huge tool, and he was burying it to the hilt in the Primordial, fast, hard and deep, and by gods she was taking it all.

Suddenly Snape pulled out of the witch and dropped down to a sitting position. He grabbed Hermione by the waist and yanked her back, forcing her to straddle his lap, her back facing him. Snape impaled the Primordial hard, stroking her deeply, gripping her waist and jerking her back and forth over him, his face contorted with lust.

Lucius climbed into the bed and stood in front of the bouncing witch, looking down at her. Her eyes were glowing as if she had a torrent of fire burning inside her, her full mouth slack as the Potions Master drove into her. Lucius fisted his hands in her hair and widened his stance and bent his knees, crouching slightly so his swollen member was face level with the witch.

"Suck me, Primordial," he breathed, pushing into her mouth, hunching in tightly, holding himself steady. Snape's violent penetration drove her forward and back, so her hot mouth caressed the blonde wizard's thick organ, sliding over it every time the Potions Master stroked into her and yanked her back. Lucius groaned, throwing his head back, his handsome face twisted in bliss as Hermione's lips dragged over him.

The two wizards took their pleasure of the Primordial, Snape sitting with her straddling his lap, pistoning into her body like a mad man, and Lucius crouching in front of her, his hands locked in her hair, letting her mouth and Snape's thrusts do all the work.

Hermione was all lust and sensation as the two wizards took her at both ends. She felt so full, so wanted, and so complete. The witch was burning up, Snape's delicious stroke from behind adding more friction, threatening to ignite her and make her explode, while Lucius' hot length in her mouth and his uninhibited groans, curses and hisses of pleasure was more fuel added to her fire.

Hermione felt the familiar bubble boiling over, but this time it was larger and sweeter than any before it, and she began to shudder violently as the two wizards continued to physically possess as much of her as they could, both men groaning as the tremors of her body added more pleasure to their penetration of her, pleasure vibrating along their shafts as she trembled.

Snape felt the Primordial beginning to tighten around him, the heat from her body almost scorching, as the pulse began. He started stroking her faster, knowing what was coming. Lucius was gasping, beginning to tighten as her shuddering mouth flew over him.

"Lucius, get ready…she's going to come," Snape panted as Hermione let out a low moan that began to increase in volume. Perspiration flew from Snape's body as he worked frantically toward release, not wanting to be left behind when the Primordial came. This is what he was working toward from the moment he entered her. He knew she had to be ridden hard, and her mind taken away in order to reach that pinnacle of bliss he longed for, that he could only find with her. He wanted that. He stroked into her and began to talk to her.

"Come for me, Primordial!" he gasped at her, pulling her down roughly as she tightened even more. "Let it go, Hermione! Give me what I want, damn you!"

Dimly his words reached her, and she complied…the bubble inside her bursting with intense sweetness, racing through her body, sending her soaring. Severus growled as he felt her heat wash over him, slow rolling and delicious. Then her power manifested, pouring powerfully through the orgasming witch and into both Snape and Lucius.

Both wizards began to shudder violently, suddenly swept to the edge of release, waves of pleasure washing over them as they both contracted, then expanded, bursting, bliss streaming through them both as they came simultaneously, Lucius' eyes rolling to the back of his head, and Snape biting his lip against the intense delight of his release until he drew blood, both flooding the Primordial with their seed and being drawn with it into her being, ripped away from their bodies, soaring, spinning, spiraling through space…the three becoming one, melding together, blending without beginning or end…hovering together in an interminable moment before breaking apart and plummeting back like stars cast down from heaven, to land gasping, quaking and shuddering in a pile of tangled limbs as they collapsed, Snape falling back to the bed, Hermione falling back on top of him and Lucius pitching forward and landing on the witch, barely able to keep from crushing her.

They lay there together like fallen dominoes, stacked on each other, Hermione sandwiched between the two wizards, her head resting on Snape's chest, and Lucius' head resting on her breasts. All three were gasping, their chests rising and falling as they breathed deeply, trying to still their pounding hearts. Both wizards flung their arms out in exhaustion. All three lay there in silence for several minutes.

Finally Lucius asked, "What the fuck just happened?"

Snape, who was on the bottom of the pileup, lifted his head slightly.

"You came with a Primordial," he said, letting his head drop back.

Lucius looked up at Hermione, his gray eyes full of wonder. The witch was sound asleep, resting comfortably against Snape's chest, seeming to emit a palpable glow of satisfaction. Lucius could see his come had run out of her mouth, down her chin and cheek and also into her hair. A bit pooled on Snape himself. She had been in no state to swallow.

The wizard said to Snape,"Scourgify the Primordial, Severus."

The dark wizard lazily waved his hand and Hermione was cleansed. Lucius lowered his head back to her breast and listened to her heartbeat. It was slow and steady.

After a moment, he asked Snape, "Will this always happen?"

"No," Snape replied, "Not always. You have to get her to the point her powers manifest. You have to reduce her to the state of nothing but feeling. In other words you have to really ride the shit out of her to get that to happen."

"I see," Lucius said quietly. He was in awe.

He had no idea that possessing Hermione would give him such an amazing experience. He was still quaking slightly. Suddenly the wizard realized that the witch beneath him was much more than a mere status symbol…and found he no longer had the desire to exploit her as one. But he would definitely remain her Consort. He would have to hide this particular aspect of the relationship from Narcissa. He had a feeling she wouldn't understand.

"Rethinking things, Lucius?" Snape asked, a bit of mirth in his voice.

"You could say that," Lucius replied.

"Coming like that will make you rethink everything. You know, I never came near her in three years, but I couldn't get that experience anywhere else. And I tried. I've shagged everything that moved…and nothing came close," said Snape.

He fell silent, then added, "We're a couple of lucky wizards, Lucius."

Lucius thought so too. The wizards lay there in silence a couple more minutes.

Then Snape said, "Lucius, could you roll off of the Primordial?"

Lucius scowled. He was comfortable.

"Why?" he asked, his jaw set stubbornly.

"Because you're crushing my balls, that's why," Snape replied.

"Oh," he said, rolling off the witch and laying alongside her, looking at her. She really was lovely.

"Do you think she'll want us to engage her again when she wakes up?" Lucius asked, still studying the sleeping witch.

"Maybe," Snape replied yawning. "She'll probably want to eat first. As long as we don't let her eat too much, we might be able to convince her to go another round. In any case, I'm going to get some sleep. I'm exhausted."

Lucius was spent too.

"Sounds like a good idea," he said, yawning also and closing his eyes.

Snape closed his eyes, and draped one long arm across the Primordial's belly protectively.

Lucius opened one gray eye, and noticed this. He said nothing.

Next time they did the Primordial he'd simply make sure that he ended up on the bottom.

THE END

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A/N: Ok. They did it. Hope ya'll liked it. Note the bit of residual rivalry between the wizards at the end. I just couldn't let it go completely. lol Please review.


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